The Day After the Party

I wait for the dragons to arrive
slowly stretching my legs and back
just a small movement so as not to startle
my muscles or anything else
that might be watching
the light is laconic filtered camels
drifting into smoke filled streets
littered with red paper and broken balloons
what day is it? I’m asked
the day after the party
is the reply
as the crab skitters off in its
sideways dance
leaving the oddest tracks across the sand
shadows pass over the lengthening sun
before the sound of wings are heard

*** I have no idea – really must be the cold medicine – smiles