sipping interlagos, russian quaalades, mata hijaus, bellinis...
...hearing live music, with the chandeliers hanging dim and the fans brushing against the heat,
i imagine you tapping my leg to the beat and falling asleep on my shoulder.
cables, technology, satellites, postmen, whatever it may be, our lullaby travels to you in waves that coincide with your heart, and our secrets hang and meander through the whispering air where cicadas might eavesdrop,
you might not even know this, but i fly to the moon every night trying to peep through your window to see your sleeping face. it seems like you've climbed the stars and nothing sky to rush up from behind and wake me up in the morning.
the sun's rays tingle on my eyelids, and a gentle kiss is all i need...
...to know this dream continues even into the day.
