a long time under flying saucers.
later we still got glow behind
the waterfalls. went immediately
to the French big dog #340 and
also got with its glue. there was
lots of jazz. I tasted your make-up.
pretty cool. it was nuclear.
Saturday was the best. fourteen
years we danced. and at the
Cajun restaurant I’d keep the
sweat from dripping down your
ribs. a whole lot of time in Salem.
thirty-five years of lights. it was
very loud. I proceeded to lose
my new fleece gloves and threw
a telephone up to the stars.
first published in getunderground.com
