Lookie here, it’s not every day
that the sand kisses your lips.

Purple sweet potatoes melt
in the basket. Lord, it rains,

but not where we need it.
The sweetest fruit on earth

hides on the cliff ’s furthest edge,
away from our prickly hands.

Its name is Zeus Juice I feel you,
I feel you, I feel you.

How short is the list? Move
to New Orleans and change

the scenery; shoot a deer
in the dome and dance

to the synthesizer: hips and ass
and hips and ass, but

mostly stiff arms and sadness.
So much of the bouncing ball

is about what it is not.
Be thankful you’re not a bee

because you’d quickly be a dying breed.
I could suck nectar from your neck,

but I’m not going to. For now.
What I would give to have it back—

the time we danced together
in the thick of our own dust.