My Cardboard Balcony

I Was Standing Beneath Olympus by Belinda Roddie and gold flakes were buried beneath my cuticles and in my hair their sheen sent fish scattering in the rivers full of silver while the bronzed jaw of Apollo shone against the sun as he rode his chariot into the clouds setting them on fire turning rain into steam making the world his cauldron

"This doesn't work." "Don't worry about it." "It doesn't contain nearly enough information." "Pfft. Details." "No. Not details, Griff. Information. Full, useful, data-driven information. This doesn't have that." "Martel's right," Booth remarked gruffly from her desk. "We can't send that off to the boss." "Give me a break!" growled Griff. "I tried my best!"