I have spoken magic languages.
I have slept beside goddesses
in opium fields and mushroom clouds
only to wake the next morning and find
they were just jersey girls
with nice tans and too much make up.
I have experienced pure ecstasy
but man did it give me a hangover.
July is the most pleasant amnesia
like waking from a dream
finding yourself more perceptive to sensation
like the taste of ocean air
the sight of brightly colored bikini bottoms
struggling against the tide.
July is pleasant amnesia
for a man not wanting to remember.
Fearing memory could never be so sweet
as dancing on the hot summer sand.
Dancing with the reckless abandon of July.
