your lips are the only thing in the world i crave

the moon
ensconced
in a blanket
of wooly gray
above a
sleepy city
in north
texas
sinuous
tongues of
electricity
race across
the near
perpetual
clouds
flashing
pink hues
above the
apartment
building

the barium
floating in
my brain
undulates
with the
lightning
a throbbing
symphonic
barrage
lost in the
backbeat
of smoky jazz
electrofunk
playing softly
in the dark
punctuated
by jagged
forks of pink
far below the
sleepy moon.

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