Blitzkrieg
by John Gosslee

A Water Can Sprays a Flowerbed City
 
 
outside of the train station
it rains like god is ringing out a towel
the ticket holders bloom umbrellas
drops of water splash into little corsages
I inhale and float up as if a balloon
mismatched flowers pivot on their stems to see
as I ascend my empty boots fill with cold soup
someone’s shoulder snickers against my wet right foot
a woman yells, you can’t do that!
she lunges to pluck me down and catches air