Blue Balloon

Somehow you were able
to place yourself inside
a blue balloon, float miles
above the skyline, and look
down on the, now, little
people; the crowd that once
possessed you, homogenous,
with cruel intentions, gasping
for air, twisting, as if wrung out
of rope, on the sidewalk.

It was like you were jacked up
on helium, your voice surreal
and squeaky, your consciousness
like a carousel, turning around
in time to hear the calliope music
you believed to be playing for your
ears only.

I had tried to grab the string,
attached to the balloon, as you
began your ascent, but was unable.

It all happened so quickly: the spacing, the timing, that last chance to grab hold of you.