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