Marching Band

Almost four-o-clock in the afternoon and not a single tambourine in sight you should have jumped over the moon hours ago, until secret alien creatures on the surface said the autopsy was inconclusive which explains for me why icicles drip from your heart, as the sun warms the memory of your embrace, like moonflowers, gently unfolding at night reveal the mysteries of love the bandleader, wearing a feathered pompadour signals a final formation somewhere in time your tune marches into the distance marches .......into the distance 01/02/11