At Om Beach

The undone world with its pink lotus moon, sits on the sand smoking what could be coconuts. Friends recant stories and try to kill memories on the rocks. Cinnamon smells, ankle bells, shimmering voices and ribald LEDs displace the moonlit waves. The brow rings and tattoos on drained bodies, ebb with the tide. Puppies snatch attention from twirled moustaches as caffeine incites me to dance. The wind pairs Canna and plain vanilla tobacco in the same shacks, and they breed glowing ships that float out of the misty horizon. Mosquitoes suck on barbecued skin while intellect is distracted by Bollywood. Glass clinks and plastic strips. At the end of days, when nostrils are deaf and eyes tired, music guides the ears to dreams.