If I knew what to say I’d say it
The tip of my tongue is a wasteland
If I knew I could stand I’d get up
Face down on a Tibetan rug
It smells like tequila
One ear to the floor like Beethoven
His voice echos up through carpet
It sounds like cold espolon white
Coating his lips, I kept them airtight
Under the moonlight sonata
After inhaling the first movement
Four times each with different movements
Last night is still dissolving
Like a lazy, voluptuous smoke ring
I feel like a queen