I wanna fall in love with someone who plays the blues like floss between his toes baked under the sun, steps away from a lake we called a sea anyway. We sat
their four days, the sand packed under our breathing vertebrate the sun never set; only dripped, dipped its golden fingertips into pleased, green ripples.
He'd watch with me, his rolled up jeans, pressed pink cheeks blowing against that harmonica, fingers white, pressed. I rest on my hands on wet sand, tiny grains
of sunny diamonds. I sang out to the redheaded halcyon -- to his slender beak: *pierce my gentle heart!