the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Pacific Sun

You are the king and I am the magician,
She is the artist and he, the engineer.
We sit and listen for the Tokyo chimes'
Echo in the station over alcoholic pride.
Temporarily illiterate in the retrospective,
Ms. Detective had to ride the bus home
For what was more than just a rewrite.
It was more than double scoops,
Summer goosebumps shook the car.
It was a union transatlantic,
It was singing to the stars.

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