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Cigar-shaped Clouds

Today I will write about the clouds and what they make me think of; I wish that I could see more of them, but they are obscured by trees and rooftops, and my view is not as entire as I would like for it to be.

What do I want from the clouds? It’s not really that I want anything, but it MUST mean something that there is a cigar-shaped cloud behind the closest house to mine. (–They are keeping their blinds closed –I actually wondered if they had moved away–) What can that cloud mean? That it will turn into some kind of spaceship, that will land soon in the backyard–and then what? Aliens will get out of it and I’ll need to hide? or nothing at all. I worry for nothing, which is probably more like the truth of what will happen. So far no aliens have landed, and that surprises me because I assume that they have as much interest in coming here as I have in getting to them, no matter where they are, no matter how many black holes I need to travel in order to arrive where they are right now.

It would be better if I worried that my head would explode, if I thought that my head would bulge and expand to fill this room. Part of the bulge in my head might be cigar-like. But no aliens are in my head, although I’ve seen and liked ET, close encounters of the third kind, Independence Day, and war of the worlds; movies I’ve enjoyed, and that I watch if I notice they are on; movies that I like to think about now, and that contain characters that interest me, characters that I might follow if I thought I could follow them remaining unnoticed and unseen. If I could be more like a character on Dr. Who–maybe the doctor himself, maybe if I had a sonic screwdriver, or if I could be more convinced that the kind of travel that the time lords are involved in were possible. Police booths that are more like cigars than anything out there. The stone angels don’t frighten me –as perhaps they should.

If I wait long enough, the clouds will move, with the rotation of the earth and all that, and the cigar-shape will be gone, replaced by something else, perhaps by something less inspiring, but replaced just the same. In the coming darkness, maybe the cigar will be replaced by only star formations; it may become no more than a form of chariot that can be used in part to access those stars (made more accessible with the help of a sonic screwdriver). I don’t know for sure what the sunrise will do, maybe nothing, maybe the sunrise will just cause the cigar to look different, to take on the lights of sunrise and then dissipate rather quietly (quickly too) in swirls of red and pink. Maybe lights rather similar to those in Van Gogh’s “Starry Nights” or perhaps, colored to match, if it was colored, the darkness in “Runagate, Runagate” by Robert Hayden.