The universe is suede and black pepper--
a subtle aroma like coffee in a cafe. It's accompanied by
clean laundry air-drying a few miles away. But when
preoccupied with dancing like a blur,
it smells like a drunk. Wine is spilled on the laundry.
A party consumes the land.
The seasoning is mixed into a soup that will never be eaten,
because everyone is too busy
enjoying themselves too much.
The universe's leather shoes are kicked to the wings.