I watch the drone screens flying over the I-10.
A god caped with a Fleur-de-lis.
Yours is a soul with a brand.
The oldest and most persistent archetypes gnaw at us.
He walks these parts without his coat.
Wrap my feet in lily pads.
O how I love Midsummer’s Night.
With sauced goose and deviled ram.
We are so headstrong when our dreams are unfastened from reality.
This fight never should have happened.