Bellaire National Champions

on a winter's day in the cold wind is when i climbed the tower of water and dove real deep
all else was still, and no sound emit
the roads were grey in a cold type of way,
as if they were rivers instead of the grave
gravel
you were inside with no puddles
but pillows and puffles
the police were gone,
and i was out
and so i saw the tower
and so i climbed the tower
the ladder was metal and rusting
and as i reached the landing, i looked down and i could see you
from your window, sleeping
Christmas lights blinking and your family singing
i laughed in ecstacy of my reality, turned back to the sphere,
waiting