Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Sweet, like raisins in peccadillo
or the soundtrack of Garden State --
sweating lilacs and listening to Nick Drake,
you know she's spinning in my mind.

Struck by her tickling hair
and razor lips (her voice is
feathers falling in my ears) --
Lightning is supposed to kill a man.

I'm standing on the moon
dancing with the earth.

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