Up in the sky and not very high

maybe fifty


sixty feet at the top

is a puffed up green kite

that looks like a velvet snail

swollen like a parachute

big as a parachute

or a giant top

with strings like a parachute

hanging down to a guy below

with all the strings in his hand


yet looking like he’s hang gliding

from a velvet snail

without lifting up


He has created a silk edifice

that makes himself insignificant

in a way

as just part of

a green roof of air over him

with walls of string

a bouquet

with himself as the vase

Yet he is the water

that feeds the flower

that floats over

the gray bay


He is a balloon salesman

He sells air and beauty

The price is our attention

that he gives back to us


See how the green kite leads him along?

How he walks underneath it to keep it aloft?

like a giant captive bouquet of green beauty?


By night he is a chubby man

who eats fast food

But at sunset

he is a male Scheherazade

a slave to beauty

a hero floating in the sky

who worships

in an open air cathedral

of green silk

tied up

in spider webs

without leaving the ground


 Floyd Salas