Saturday, June 6, 2015

A Hippie Hill Story

At a dirty hippy McDonald's 
at the end of Haight St 
and the kiss of Golden Gate Park 
is still gritty

Writing my first confessions with
a space pen that doesn't need ink
I guess the cool thing now is to 
spill digital blood

Listening to her antagonize me with 
the painful potential of a ghost with 
a soft voice making her feel beautiful 
and it’s kind of turning me on

The way her B Minor voice sounds 
when she puts bass in her moans 

sends a Phoenix through my spine 
I talk too much and have to figure 
out how raise the s(o/u)n that 
speaks in an innocent dissonance 

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