Happy birthday gas station boy
No longer but now brinking man
Not so far from sitting under
Tungsten bulbs
Burning bright at middle of night
After adventures too
Trepid and tormenting for repetition
In words here
Talking about nothing
Infinite in this moment
When empty words say absolutely
Everything our hearts mean.
Hoodlums off the freeway.
Let your spirit fill the space between
Each finger tip
Conducting between energies
Flowing within and through and around
Melodies tugging
Heart strings we didn't know we had
Hands clasped to stay
Grounded and perfect
Elevated to a heightened
Realm of being
Together as one in the many of one
Made by infinite tangling of fingers.
A whole fraction of breath.
Nights of unending
No particular emotion attached
Every one possible present and
Exploded inside and in front
Rocking and shook by
Infinity.
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