Outside, a monstrous boulder is being rained on. Daily becomes more unsteady in its pool of crumb. Meanwhile, know-nothing speculators chatter on  inventing extra-terrestrial theories.

To think – it arrived in a buzz of meteor dust. Were there promises within its sparkling aura? If so, they subsumed the flying thistles, very nearly.  Your eyes were taken for decades, and all because  a peach-stone fire-glow lit your psyche. But – take away the brouhaha – what it was then, it’s still: grisly in silhouette.

Now it’s crept to your front door, there’s no entry, no exit without a torrent of angry words. 

No longer can you maintain with any real success,  this isn’t your most unfortunate and singular boulder.