Summer's Last Stand
You're wearing a halo strapped around your shoulders,
though the rest of the band only
sees a five dollar T-shirt
purchased late one night from a roadside stand.
The barefoot senorita who sold it
had a face as brown as baked clay, eyes like apples,
and the most sonorous voice
I'd ever heard.
We write a song in her honor.
The arrhythmic cadence of telephone poles dance across
pole .... swag.... sway... pole...
swag... sway... sway... swag... pole
Home feels further away with every laugh.
Miles come in markers while Daniel tries to his best to
coax a Mariachi sound from his acoustic guitar.
...sixty-nine gets a puerile giggle, but ninety-eight
hitting like degrees of the ever-present sun.
Staggered over the airwaves, The Cure confirms it;
Today is Friday, so I'm running high on love.
Bobbie Dylan tells us we're all just tangled
up in blue, and we laugh until we cry
because it's so very close to truth.
Fifteen miles to Vegas and Cherry's on the rag.