and I am just a shitty poet,
listening to David Bowie,
and farting while editing
before the sun gets rich,
effectively destroying this poor,
beatific Saturday forever.
It's a fit day for western ghosts,
nothing going on, nothing going down.
After the afternoon,
meet me at The Gin Rummy bar
on Washington Blvd,
near Marina Del Ray;
my friend Mark is DJing,
so we can dance
our tail feathers off
and forget for a while.
It's a midnight organ fight.
Always down for a dance party,
you pick Stevie Wonder,
I'll pick Taylor Swift,
we will agree on The Right Stuff
by New Kids on the Block,
you can have my drink tickets,
and I will buy us dinner after.