I wish music could adopt me...
that one night
when I felt free
like that shit means something,
like that shit counts
freedom in the potential:
angst but more. radical hopes but more.
some kind of fleeting wind
the fleetingness itself:
gave her a quick kiss
on a bleary club night, dingy, defeated, neon pink, fake plants, "kitchy,"
she says.
alive in the wild dreariness of crumbled ambitions
tacky suits and drunken dance steps
tapping out clave raythms
with the crew; at the table; passing a bottle of rum, tacky comedy,
blaring over a
fashion-show-blur.
then out into the night
crowds and yellow lights blended into the purple darkness
the wall holding back the massive sea.
free
stumbling over a gasping city
