Modern

The buildings rained after the clouds were empty.
We hid our eyes through blind siding sprints
as the lights kept moving
back and forth
and all around.
Once inside, we debate
you taking the side of art
of the wild still left in the world.
I claim indifference, uninspiration,
all that is wrong with the world I live in
I find hanging on these walls.
You joke about the wheelbarrow
full of popcorn and Christmas
ornaments.
I wish it was just another attempt
at poetic imagery but this was
too good to be true, I suppose.
In a way.
Maybe.