Ideal Clime of History

How it should have ended:

the world as Victoria Park
in apocalyptic colour after the rain;
avians aglow on Prussian lake,
sunlight-red arches bleeding
sandstones into the ripples,
crayon green grasses waving
at luscious lipstick lotuses—

the world on Broadway
under a rich denim blue sky,
a shy-whiskered fat Persian cloud
waving technicolor tail
over the lovers upon the lawns,
by an ecstatic fountain that sprays
vivacious velvet purple jacarandas
 
But I had a lecture to run to