Fleet Foxes croons
Mykonos on the stereo,
I'm bare-soled over the
couch's elbow,
it's 90 degrees
on May 14th,
the city is dressed
in delirium and swimsuits,
Antonio is stoned
behind The Waypost,
his birthday was yesterday
he turned 33,
the year of eternity
so says the Muslims,
lounging, I'm wondering
where the old folk go,
for drinks and joints
and to get to the point,
my old man Chris
came in my bed last night,
he's 57 and
basking in the Heaven,
of my eternally
youthful delight,
my hair loosens free
curls kissing my cheeks,
like little legs
pushing off a tree,
like a tire swing
under my rim,
i am free and heavenly
laughing sweetly,
just wanting someone
to laugh with me.
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