I ripped out of the old tavern Into the torn indigo overcoat And traveled under the porticoes of a billion fantastic stars To celebrate this marvelous November night.
My treasured newsboy cap from a thrift shop spins on my hand, And my feet bubbles off the floor like soda pops. I pray my gratitude to the one above the altar For my indomitable freedom. Amen.
A pocket change rolling, bikes uninhabited, and lampposts perpetual. A rolled cigarette wantonly leaned between my sticky lips. Autumnal dews wetted my forehead like spiriting wine. And while, scarf blowing, boots tattered, I raised my odalisque eyes heavenward The world pixelated above my moist eyes Like a seabed of jewelry stars