The shape promises water-pistols, sound effects for plastic planes
departing runways scythed through summer grass.
Liquid sloshes in the metal base: levels fall audibly, a squeezed cloud
pumps menthol scented droplets where children sleep.
Windows are closed against the night. Chemicals drift, a tickle
in the throat, scratch behind the eyes. Morning:
flies curl on window sills, always on their backs, as if they could
extract a little more air, when flight fails.