Playing Outside
Summer, and the sun
is just an evening edge,
low on the horizon, and
the sky behind us, an
impossible purple. A gold
glow from the light kits
splashes across the band
at odd angles, reflects
off the chrome on the mic
stands and drums. Even
the guitar strings and
tambourines shimmer
as the air around us
cracks and pops, an
electric hum and echo.
And isn't every song
some sweet piece of
candy, the way it feels
in the mouth? Something
to be moved around or
hummed toward- mmm-
like a kiss, and we close
our eyes, and we close
our eyes, and we breathe
deep and sink into this
sweet drink. This long,
cool flow, you know, this
swaying in the breeze.
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