Today, as the crickets moan,
I recant a song built from soft
white, drift-wood and clean,
polished steel.
I dance down the broken street
while black
bird-silhouettes
screen-print the magenta-blue sky
like spray-paint cans full of
energy and power strength that
my little fingers envy from a distance,
but for a moment my toes
bounce with the pebbles to the beat;
a pleasure from letting go
for a moment.
Drunk on the dance floor, the release
is effortless, but it ends like the sun
popping below the horizon,
until tomorrow comes,
all the while asking
how do I know
this is the same sun.