Rolling down my sides, pools of sweat
cool earth welcomes my ear.

There, sweet breezes meet and save me
cheek on checkered parquet.

Muted paws startle and patter off
midnight swings its low call.

Can you see the stars through the ceiling?
only impossible dreamers do.

She is always there, like a subtle cocoon
ringing in the new, so easy.

They never elucidated on how heavy cases await
while you shift to art and music dies.

Platters on the way and milky mix, a messy spill
time to don a sombrero.

Let's drink to the future and pour me a glass
tiny toothpick draped in paper.

Hollow gifts and hard wages, a song for the mass
small coin for mules, clap for the fools.