Mexicali 2013

Shaking like my margarita on the rocks, dressed up with somewhere to go, with everyone to meet, of a who to pursue

I trade my paper gown for a little black dress because I have been told of a who to impress

I waltz around, following the moon and hunting it down from the garden of my house and all through the town

Because there we will finally meet,

And to spill a wake of the journey of how I’ve walked upon the skies of some kind of night

A face of the moon in the heat of the summer reflects like my face in the glass

At Mexicali, where I wait and think…

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