Pedal Letters

Street dweller, he swims through the concrete.
Home schooled, his preference of exploration.
The anthems of his headphones burst in vibration.
A planet shared by all becomes a world of his own.
He studies the monuments of his surrounding.
A minor strategy of eliminating observed time.
Secluded from the sky, a hat surfaces him.
Every day of other, this is routine.
Within this cycle, a mystery capitalizes his desolation.
The removal of his hat uncovers clues and details.
Inside the garment, a flower is found.
Rolled into a line, the craft of its delivery.
White, pink and purple, the threads sewn.
Discarded, the seeded beauty barrels the cement.

Cloud Boulders

Friendly neighbor, he watches me in confusion.
A gargoyle I am, I reign above the community.
My selection in position baffles him.
Why does one decisively taste the cold wind in height?
Also, why does one remain stone and gray?
Sanctity, addictively gasping for potent air.
Potable, the precipitation floods my desert canyon.

My companion in residence shows concern.
I assure him my ability to glide protects me.
Respectively, he denies the possibility.
A fleeing flock siphons the oxygen above.
Floating, conserving windy revenue.
He still claims his question of why, has not been answered.
The granite blanket is my nesting ground.
Savages who walk the ground pollute the marvelous wealth of air.
Up, here I evade the intoxication, I defog the smog.