Sweat cools
on the tops of our shoulders.
The sun drops
and the beat follows.
A moment of blackness first,
followed by
a rock candy colored infinity.
It dances, without apology
and blankets me in light.
In the spaces between
spilled beer and green smoke,
time is a foreign language
that no one cares to learn.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
Sweat cools
on the tops of our shoulders.
The sun drops
and the beat follows.
A moment of blackness first,
followed by
a rock candy colored infinity.
It dances, without apology
and blankets me in light.
In the spaces between
spilled beer and green smoke,
time is a foreign language
that no one cares to learn.
© Bitsy Sanders, October 2016
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