Anomie

Simmer, helium,
the abdomen airs high on the tarp
dipping over the river.

Ejected from the vertical construct
atop fire of lost capital
when the green visions fed to a propulsion field
at the envy glimpse of lubricated clanks in structure
of the happiness here.

Bags of cents and scents and sense, last to fall.
The sky never felt as blue
as the sea before
the sea filled with cruises
and the sky learned how to swim past the jetliners
every so often when the gold spewed from below
and the happy afforded a home.

As for the muscles clenching out on the lining bowl,
at the helm of a crimson snare balloon,
the wind frictioned out the rising haul
in sparks of detanglement
as the carriage blew along credits and calls collect.

In alienation, the alien unfurled
on the wind
and, piecing out in phased cloud covering,
the resistance detonated the sulfur
incense of the exchange temples that compute the earth.