The boat is aglow with firefly lights and with every slow deliberate breath
They are floating past the dock where just a change of mind ago they sat by the fire, kissing cigars
While she threw dull smiles at the red flames, unwound unrequited attachments,
And left someone else behind in the rainforest daydreams
The barge of drifting lights and youth is swimming in circles
Creating a breeze that makes her dress dance like a sea creature with pink tentacles
Behind the crystal of her champagne glass, his eyes are green in the dimness of this yacht and in the morning
She’ll notice they are an unfamiliar slate color
She looks back to see the fire is dead at the dock and wonders if she has been here before
With dangerous ambivalence they were rampaging the streets
She sees herself everywhere in mirrors, holding rainbow glasses of drinks
Until she finds herself sinking between his sheets
Breathing warmth out of her veins, suspecting that if she blinks
She might erase it all with the pulse of the night and a parting of the lips
When her wings fluttered the hours away in a smoky heaven and she tore shooting stars off the walls
Traced the clouds with her hips, brushed the ether with her fingertips
In smug delight of holding a microcosmos in her pocket, blind to impending falls
So steadily she holds the gaze of his gold-flecked eyes
Carefully one more time traces his ripples and lines
When daylight snakes in the room and the night before is a faded whisper of sighs
And the arrogant sun sings and shines
She can feel her heart starting to creak and bend
And fears with him she’ll meet her end
drifting in and out of sleep floating through disturbances of phone calls and scrambled details of a faraway night-glory when riddled with shivers she found a warm body, let herself crumble to elusive plans not her own, victim to sloshing in the head, a warm bloody release of the fulfillment. she slept alone above a pool of aquamarine liquid, disconnected from infidelities.
there’s a vague flash of pink, metallic, chipped nailpoish, and bent wings. here’s the skin my flesh and all the youth for you to feast on. she raged and dragged a furor through the bones with a fresh madness and love that has never idled away in a pantry or been stored in a can.
waking up penless and thoughtless, light was starting to claw at the blinds and she was still waiting for unconsciousness and relief from the battle schemes of the day. coffee and spirits have flooded the veins, burst against reason, spun the head with heavy confessions in a rotation of heavenly uncertainties.
an entreating voice is on the phone, asking for warmth, because he is about to leave again, restless to wander while she stews contentedly in suburbia, breathing in a fateful and constant concrete, only half listening because she catches sight of a man on a balcony and trails off to stale thoughts and imagined with him there would be the final reduction of the fatal rush and the pleasure of letting the unknown melt in slate irises, gold-flared in the midday sun, a faithful and eternal reflection of unending sand and flawless sky.
now they suffer the musicless hum of the 405 together and she is reminded they have always been imaginary. you might be remembered best if you finished here violently and grandly and young because continuity threatens to be the most inglorious concession.