I'm writing with a purple pen,
air conditioner humming noisily,
blessed relief from July heat,
midnight ticking at the clock.
(Geraldo talks to Dennis Miller
or being in the line of fire...
just another cable re-run.)
Sky's a darker hue of purple,
color of midnight.
Full moon flirts with clouds:
pale orange orb breaks
into pure silver light.
Ice crystals blown away, fool gravity.
Sky looks cold. Imagining winter,
I shiver in summer's furnace,
imagining how your skin would feel
cool
