Jobs, people, faces hidden in pockets;
mounting years flicker, ticker-tape back when.
’69, flashes purple flares, dresses
ride up thighs fall down legs skirt floors. Music
sparks flames, names, oxtail soup and hot roast beef
in the Starlight Room. Songs are dates. Pixels
dance, bordered…disordered geometry
gyrates. It’s life, Jim – not as we know though
stages lose plots and minds are hot to trot
running scared, framed in film with mixed reviews;
out-takes fascinate and halt the process.
Understanding is language suddenly
learned, a code reduced to numbers
and the what-ifs slap at every wheel-turn.