Shut the fuck up with this life.
A few beers in, 11 PM, floating in the Dead Sea. Put your ears underwater —- you can still hear the saxophone player down the beach that you never did end up finding that night. Put your ears in the water and listen to the muffled sounds of the saxophone and now listen to the pulse in your ears. Everyone out there can hear that sax, but only you have that percussion. They’re not on the same rhythm, but neither are you with anything.
Watch the stars and float and float and float. Hands behind your bed and you might as well be on a pillowed raft. See a shooting star and begin to flail around so wildly that someone asks if you’re all right.
I’m all fucking right, all right.
