My Reflection has a Balloon/ Atlas Shrugged

Atlas Shrugged

I hold up the sky — it is weightless, like a balloon. Think about it, do you think the sky has weight? Not content to be idle, I learn English, Spanish, Italian, German, Peruvian, and Persian. Sometimes other Titans come by to say hello and shoot the shit, and we end up playing Texas Hold ’Em. Last week a little kid came by selling magazine subscriptions, and I let him hold up the sky for 15 minutes. He loved it! Look at me, holding up the sky! Wait till I tell Mom and Dad, they’ll never believe this! Zeus found out, of course, and was angry like an old woman, but I don’t care. You know, there are worse lots out there. Some of the boys in Hell aren’t even unionized. Me, I’m stuck in one place, but I have a great view — on a fine blue day I can see all the way to North Africa and Morocco — I’m the first to see the birds migrate on their way to Spain’s dappled hot groves of olive trees and oranges, I can almost feel roots reaching into the red earth. The breeze blows strong with a hint of deepest Africa, glad savage and sweet. I am truly happy. Are you?