The sky is a very bad parent impatient, grinding its teeth, hyperventilating as its baby wahs and wails and flails and vomits all over its parent's prettiest things and the parent grabs its little darling a little too tight a taut smile a slight tear traps it under an arm and marches into the kitchen opens the dark chemical cabinet under the sink tosses in the nuisance like a lightning-chopped tree trunk crushes a two-family home claps the cabinet closed.