fly it. Spin on it, chase it.
And if you unfocus your eyes, you can see it.
See through it. See through air.
There are no names for the colors I see there.
No way to describe the witches' hair
that billows and flows
out of the dark and gray,
the dull blue of the day,
into golden-orange scream!
(Do you see what I see?)
Their faces turn pink when they see how I gaze,
like a girlfriend, undressing, who reads into my face.
And brief, so brief, does the light still shine.
The gray overcome, and the women take flight.
They've surrendered to the air moments before night.
Their eyes they keep focused ~
so keen do they see
through the black and the blue
(with some help from the Moon).
And I focus, too,
and find myself here
in Mexico ~ el Caribe,
feet planted in sand.
I have yet to learn it's no secret to fly.
No running, no leap ~
just jump into the sky.
The colors will carry you, the light to guide...
Unfocus your eyes and ride!
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