Olden days, older waves, crescent caves.
I can't do aluminum and still feel real.
Stuffing panda bears with temperaments
of temporary peppermint is quite evasive.
Take a break, please.
The summer of the folded cloth
is almost too pleasant to be true.
Eurovision androids layer
cotton onto chrome.
The fashion is horrid because
tie-dye has been outlawed.
The hippie market has crashed.
I remembered the heavy heated rays
gently fading colors of perfect tie-dyed cottons.
It was lovely.
Hawk calls out in distance,
fabric plays with the breeze,
colors colliding my eyes with clean
interpretive dance sought out to gather the rain.
Rain clouds would be a blessing
to do away with this drought.
Add a chaser of mineral vodka,
granola in your parfait,
dip me into clay.