Steel Guitar w/Seaweed Strings

She turned around three times
& spit.   As an afterthought of everything
that had yet to occur.   Drinking from
the bottle without a parachute.   Even the
drugstore got drunk.   She started
doing the Raindog Twist.   A soft blossom
the color of hepatitis.   Twentynine
reasons to skid past the offramp.
I always thought that she had albacore-
colored eyes.   I said I appreciate all that you
haven’t yet received.   Just a rock toss from
the medieval drug lords of Tijuana.   The
dreamlike edge of La Cruz.   In the cradle of
a day between this one & the next.
The way she grinds her hips as though it’s
the last time.