Sun floods the streets of the town and there’s music and laughter and skinny white guys with their tops off showing shit tattoos and women squeezing out as much flesh from diminishing clothes as they possibly can but flesh is flesh no more no less what’s sexy to me is a mind that can bring a man to his knees a mind that answers to no one where walls and rules and bodies are as meaningless as proletarian dreams the sun burns the skin of my arms and the bridge of my nose and my neck that too feels as hot as plastic but while the music plays and my euphoria reigns such concerns mean nothing for in my skull in my mind in my mushy mushy brain there’s freedom and magic and lights that become shapes and shapes that turn into visions of her dancing barefoot through those fields of corn I dream about night after night and as the animals circle around her and Andromeda becomes a halo upon her tricky nefarious head the desires of those back down on those streets I call home seem as pitiful as roadkill and when I’m on my knees with my heart in my mouth looking up at her as she stretches out her arms so they span the length of the horizon the lives of others seem as insignificant and tatty as those magazines you find in waiting rooms which is why I’m so far away which is why I’m floating above those fields of corn so alive and in the heart of some great mystery I was told for so long never existed but it does because I’ve felt its fire and I’ve seen the look in her eyes which is why I’m floating through the trees so alive and drunken and between stations with no wish to ever go back to the man I once resembled.
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