Hit.

You kiss me
deep, before
the hit.

And the night is over.

And after, you search
for ear, neck, nose
and cheek.

But it's not enough.

You want to dance
in red world, blue world,
and green world.

But I am not here.

I am away-- somewhere
driving down Dundee Road
with my other boys, or

I am away--somewhere
in a donut shop on
New Years. Somewhere
out of that world.

And I'll straighten
my back and lift my neck
off the ground and our

breath isn't syncing.
But still we'll fade
into that red world,
blue world, green world.

-sonja lynn mata