I want your biscuits
and snow on the ground
there is synesthesia in the weather
and you are raining down
in huckleberry drops
I am diner coffee in your veins
while the foyer boys headbang
to the beat of your heart
the music floats
with the grace of a bumble-bee
stops- and collects
in an atonal mist
around the neck
tonguing the shape of "S"'s and "L"'s
up the nape into your ears
There is a small thud
as music crashes into taste buds
crisscrossed feelings radiate out
and the absurd
takes our laughter
for a bangin' ride
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