Eugene S.

Irma and the Weatherman

After long days of waiting
Come the swift grey clouds
Smearing the sky with tears

Curving out of the horizon
Tightly leashed and obedient
Triggering instinctual fears

The pious clowns on TV
So seriously concerned
Stumble through their prayers

Drawing lines from verse to verse
Feigning dread in their prophecy
Interpreting truths not of their peers

They fumble through their lines
With the world in observance
And birds, just simply disappear

For Irma is coming
As the circus is performing
Time for another beer

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