hiding for sport

on humid streets, signs bounce
in nickleodeon tremors. mai wei gardens
arbys, hank's drive thru oil change. the hog
wears the voice of god comfortably dusting
the nearly empty streets with low gear rumbling
.
slice of moon on the ocean tips and drips marekesh
yodels from a satelite beam into uncovered
heads. there are stars, staring with cop colors
on an undermanned bridge. monday just got better.

let's not discuss the finer points of tragedy via text messaging
after all, you have a nice place, a kick ass mode of transportation,
and all the liquor we could want. i'll bring the weed.

it's a good night to be cruising in paradise, letting
the magic happen. hair flyin in the wind. arms wrapped
around whatever's closest to hold. . whoever. what EVEr.
about the time you wish for a falling star, a piece of space trash
arcs across a misty sky. about the time you wish for a kiss
on the neck, a mouth on discovery's risk