Residual

wafting through the rafters or through the cracked door window it is sent ashamedly yet at the show last night they passed it freely like conversation and better than a simple handshake the music was mellow the lavatories scarce and the beers and hot dogs plenty it helps to flow relax and perhaps make lovely lapses of thought judgment time and bide such trivial endeavors i remember the girl with the tattoo of the orange sun and blue waves on the tramp stamp who was the one who introduced me to ways of Sappho (and her lez roomie) who let me know how sweet the buddha tasted when from a fingertip staring at the fishtank and wondering if the tat would heal after the hot tub at Catalina Island when the blond used all the hot water taking a sexy shower with her 2 hour boyfriend Still we strive past that to almost midnight on a year that reminds me of the rest just with less punctuation remains in the inane and when I am alone with you I feel like I want to die all over again