Blown like the minuet buttons

pride by the fingers of a musician

open like the mic in the club

given with contempt and permission

moving briskly; mimicking the feet

of all the folks

focused on listening

I am a groupie of the band

without fans

to meet them by the gate

I am the vegetarian exposed

with fried chicken on the plate

you are infinite

in leading the cult

I subscribe to everyday

so honor my invitation

to be the notes

on the sheet music

you blow through your sax in a way

that sends chills down my spine

and give me crazy shakes

the kind not removed by medication

they can't go away

but I am driven in my imagination

in your car by the bay

just to overdose

you are my antidote

MY BLAST OFF TO OUTERSPACE