She was standing there like a pyramid on the moon
two, four, six, eight, & a quarter
It’s all about the music
parsed in sonic platitudes along the gypsy string breeze
where the least silken but reed brown greens of her
kelp-lit eyes serve hamburgers to martian refugees
All I need is a surfboard & a flashlight I said
but I forgot to add tacos & a river of tequila
the flipside of a dream I’ll never remember
if only to say adios one more time