It is neither the flag that moves, nor the wind that moves. It is your mind that moves.
she is drunk as the moon shining above her arms bracket face she is wayward with some beat some hit forgotten forgot to pull up and pull down her too small tube dress breast ass right on that line drive to lizard hindbrain the crowd slows surround conversation strays away to gaze and she knows they watch her (don't watch her! watch them watch her) men stare and women glare here and there a squint or licked lip a thumb running down the sweat of glass fingers press to table cigarette pull and arched eyebrow it is not silent but would be but for that beat that hook she the bait they want to take and so when the night died and nobody told us and when we weren't looking the moon stumbled behind some buildings to sleep it off having observed the measure of our desire