Blown like the minuet buttons
pride by the fingers of a musician
open like the mic in the club
given with contempt and permission
moving briskly; mimicking the feet
of all the folks
focused on listening
I am a groupie of the band
without fans
to meet them by the gate
I am the vegetarian exposed
with fried chicken on the plate
you are infinite
in leading the cult
I subscribe to everyday
so honor my invitation
to be the notes
on the sheet music
you blow through your sax in a way
that sends chills down my spine
and give me crazy shakes
the kind not removed by medication
they can't go away
but I am driven in my imagination
in your car by the bay
just to overdose
you are my antidote
MY BLAST OFF TO OUTERSPACE
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