Saturday, March 19, 2016

At Forest Hills

feel the ghost rain
on the early evening
on the bleacher seat breeze

secret smokes
—a one-hitter pulled from a bra
private celebrations
thousands of times over
as each chord
strikes its own symphony

May we age gracefully
with fire and noise.
May we all breathe in
the blue sultry night
and feast on May twilight
until we die. 

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