Verge of a Dream: Picture of you

You are not the
Sky unable to decide to
Drop its grey clouds to
Just below the edge of
The planet. You are not the
Planet with plates
Cracking, I think I mean
Laughing at feet above
that won’t
Maintain their balance
And monuments shed
Their riders in the
Middle of a park once
So peaceful in a
Month ending summer.
You are not a burning
Need to have crowds
In awe though they
Gasp at you and
How you wake each
Sunrise only to create.
A piece of van gogh’s afterlife
Or wish to say in words
But cannot, what
You are. Anyone
Can reach for an
Expletive in frustration
At a missing piece in
The picture of you.
Anyone can search
For a figure of
Speech that has
Not been heard
On the runway and
Dance floor. Anyone
Can hope to sit
Not caring if
The world spins
Or if the movie at
The drive in ends.