Wet and Dying Under a Singular Sun

Wet and Dying Under a Singular Sun

        she's wet and dying under a singular sun

                with her hair strewn about her

                     with tangle-like impressions and folk music,

                like being here before the tide of the moment

                     in plural monstrosity chambered and sick

                      and fierce all at once with mesmerizing

                      silkiness.

                the way in which motion is E-motion

                     a singular notion discounting disfunction

                      and walled in and closed boxes

                     like cardboard arteries only made in the U.S.A.

                forgive and forget, she told me alive in the sand

                     with tweaking purity unscarred honesty

                     and a tequila in the other hand offering

                      silence.

                for now alive seems best with ice and shot glasses

                     somehow never seems far away and waving

                     expecting with boredom a silkiness undiscovered

                     untouched and ferocious in white black and grey

                     with color strewn about that singular sun,

                      wet and dying.