green lights zigzagged to guitar
and bass and people slow-danced
in the drunk dark and sipped Pepsi
and the floor sighed and trembled
when police lights blasted the windows
and sirens mutilated the music and I leaped
through the cracked back window
and dashed through a blue-red haze
to my room where I played solitaire
and ate sushi and sat perfectly still
to experimental jazz and sipped Pepsi
and slow-danced with my shadow
I pile your promises in the corner
like dirty clothes.
I sculpt the air into your scowl.
The clouds light up
a bloodshot red
and I stumble to my amplifier,
set the feedback higher
than our sealing eyes. My mouth
echoes with your name.
Dear vulpine smile drawn across lips:
join the coastguard now
and forever patrol my veins.