Wind is making things hot in California,

Is freezing my heart.

Wandering on such an eve as this,

Where the wind blows now,

But directs your flow tomorrow.

Breeze for change,

Pause in breeze for indifference.

It bites my dry lips,

And pulls my hair back.

Every strand reaching for it’s own star,

Twisted.

Be free little locks,

Like an indigo embracing her first muscle.

Escape and dodge,

Leaves and branches.

Restless,

And tired.

I am weird,

And I am wired.

Eyes fixed,

On the first seen planet.

Move your neck.

Keep hold of your cat’s mechanisms,

It will devour your mind.

Strobes of passing trees,

Foreground for vacant houses.

Blank.

Dance to my last night,

Behind this bubble.

Standing on my hedge to focus,

To see. 

Lay a blanket,

Picnic,

Dream.

Let your troubles off the short leash,

Until the breeze ceases.

Nighttime greenhouse effect,

Brown and hazy.

Stop and sit,

In the spare reading light.

Recreation!

Citations at ten.

Oh the song,

Of the leave’s crunch.

Skeletons around each orange glow,

Red brick demons.

Jump,

For the tiny wild suburban bunnies.

Swing,

For the radio’s exit music in my head.

White freckles on deep ocean flesh,

Tanned olive by the lady’s luminous light.

Step back,

Veer back.

Defense at first glance,

Held high at the last.

Glide.

Olympic sized merry-go-round,

Encircles green and purple mysteries.

My Mystery Theatre,

Is dimming at each beat.

I am drunk off crystals from my starving tongue,

Nostalgic as my lungs slow…

Magic shoes.

Going closer,

Going further away.

Long path,

Shorter every day.

etta 2009