I've got money in my pocky, warms on my body
and here comes the ticket guy, sun in his eyes,
squinting like when he's selling movies.
The cash flew over the bar last night.
I made good drinks. Ornaments hung high in the tree
beside the church, whose ancient eaves
prickled the sea.
My clothes feel good and loose today.
Sandals and socks, a nicer freedom
than when it's hot.
When you're young, you lack authenticity
so they sell it to you. Beat up new things.
Pleasure in slowly knowing comes later.
The sun in your eyes. A cat sleeping on a rock,
the cat and the rock both with veins of sun.
The boards of the old dock have godlike silver.
I know how good this year will be.
Put that over here, let's go.