[PancakeBrah]

Just After Sunset

The rush of ; flush veins, a dose of medical pills
on a couch colored ‘1970’s film’. Chartreuse and brown.
Holding steady, the thrill. Our heads, cumulus clouds.
The semblance of touch, brushing of flesh tuned in and out
until nothing is left, but the pangs in our fulcrum;
nerve endings the twang of a folk strum, vibrating a drug buzz,
reviving our duldrums. Skin pops, pinpricks, in an instant
the dual rush, in a void so alone we could hear a pin drop in the distance.
Both what is and what isn’t. The skyline aglow, moments are still,
Acting like the sun won’t rise again, but knowing it will.