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Aspirin Hurricane
Bubbles
Swirling
Tiny clouds
In a liquid sky
Epicentres
Flat and white
Fizzing
On the solid
Clear ground
Of the tumbler
Glassy sides
Like the windows
Of its skyscraper confines
In a small city
Larger clouds
Rising
Twisting
Turning
Floating just beneath the surface
Of their nonexistant route to freedom
Before shrinking
Melting
Dissolving
Into nothing
But the wet white sky
No more
Turbulent clouds
The end
For my Aspirin Hurricane
