Early morning changes my colour,
Weakens my magnet for you to escape into sleep
I asked the girl in the corridor if she was a
Morning bird, she smiled then floated into the
Scanitly clad women roam the floors of nighclubs, hotels;
Expose flesh on the beach, materialize the lust in men.
Your shanty sits on a hill,
above filth below will.
Clouds are my moving treasure, free, abundant, looming
as grey death or simply washing clean a slate of trials.
Noises in the night under dark cloud skies
That keep missing the moon.