I can always feel the shifts.
The 8 of Wands
on the 8th day
of the 8th month,
for 27 years.
Did I mention my lucky number is 8?
I cannot hide the fire
that drives me.
It is lustful and all encompassing.
It smolders and burns
and when it hits the oxygen
curls into the night sky
reaches into the atmosphere.
It is wild and untamed.
It is desperate for release,
as am I.
It wants to take the city whole.
I don’t talk to you anymore.
I still get your songs stuck in my head sometimes.
We’re still above the bar
smoking Camel Blue’s
taking gravity bongs in honor of it all.
Let it live
entangled in the carpet
or yellow on the walls.
I still see sunrise smoke rings hovering above
and think of you.
There’s a nice sea breeze
in the middle of the city.
I haven’t seen a seagull in 3 days,
but I found my seashell necklace.
I thought I lost it in 2013.
My hair is blue now
It looks dreamy, dreamy, dreamy
If you run your fingers through it
you will find starfish
and rough sand.
You can take the mermaid out of the ocean,
but you can’t take the ocean out of the mermaid.
The Big Dipper shook dust off; onto my skin.
Made me a beacon in a constellation of people.
I am one of everything
and everything is one with me.
I’ll never wash off the glitter again.
I was thinking about the Midwest.
White, orange, and black cars.
The color of the craft,
our New Year
Spotted on the first day of Summer.
Sometimes fresh starts aren’t always so fresh.
Sometimes they are hot and burning off scorching concrete.
Sometimes they are born on Midnight in the suburbs of Connecticut.