When we first heard from blocks away <br />the fog truck's blustery roar, <br />we dropped our toys, leapt from our meals, <br />and scrambled out the door <br /> <br />into an evening briefly fuzzy. <br />We yearned to be transformed— <br />translated past confining flesh <br />to disembodied spirit. We swarmed <br /> <br />in thick smoke, taking human form <br />before we blurred again, <br />turned vague and then invisible, <br />in temporary heaven. <br /> <br />Freed of bodies by the fog, <br />we laughed, we sang, we shouted. <br />We were our voices, nothing else. <br />Voice was all we wanted. <br /> <br />The white clouds tumbled down our streets <br />pursued by spellbound children <br />who chased the most distorting clouds, <br />ecstatic in the poison.<br /><br />Andrew Hudgins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-14/
