the rain receded before
the sun crept her hands up
to the yielding skirt of ice and
snow on the ground.
I could put my boots on,
go outside,
crank music and
oscillate wildly
to distorted synths.
it’ll drive the neighbor men
crazy. coax a shotgun
warning. better yet, I’ll grind
my ass on their windows,
pressing my cheeks to the glass
taking their eyes off those
50 inch tvs. they’ll lumber out
wide-eyed and open-mouthed
at the pale peach outside
and its inebriated rhythm.
we will turn this arabesque
of morning into an open air
dance club, complete with
mixed drinks and molly.
ours is a sad cul
de sac if only the trees
are allowed to oscillate
wildly. it’s not a place
for nanoloops.