She loves the beat,
bass so heavy
it hurts.

She loves the heat,
ecstasy,
short skirt.

In the middle
of these times,
I'm square.

I'd like to be
with New York City,
if she'd ever take
a bore like me.
But
in the middle
of her times,

I'm square.

I'd like
to hear her
digitally
repeating,

with her
lips pressed
against my ear,
soft whispers,
heavy breathing,

*they can't stop me.
No,
they can't stop me
from dreaming.