Icy

Two clocks, ticking out of time
To some, this cacophony of noise: this constant distraction, as loud as the snarl of an enraged leopard
Someone once remembered my name:
Air and rain
Rain is often not as fun,
But umbrellas are hazards: they seem to latch onto good-looking others, and perform a dance, a tango, and create stilted confrontations and awry eyeballs
I have never used a parasol,
Despite my pallid facade: the sun is a different irritation
But the shade is cold
And the sunlight is warm and beautiful and reminiscent of daisies singing in a faint breeze, with top hats and walking sticks, and having the most jolly of existences
And the icypoles hurt my sullied teeth with the cold and the unnecessary sugar,
but they are like a shower to my tongue and throat:
it is beauty in an elongated moment, as I slurp
without any eloquence.