A fond farewell.

Goodbye, summer. Thanks for letting me hang my clothes on the line outside my house every laundry day.

I'm going to miss that.

The man in the mustache.

One grey day.
A threat of rain,
but nothing waters.
We are dry still.

Satiation at the coffee shop
welcomed by a poor sore throat.
One-two-three,
and happy jitters arrive
-on time-
with the otherwordly beats of a DJ's complex machinery.

Transcendence to a different place
where people speak in electronica,
awkward rhythms
and colors.
Psychedelia drawn in pastels-
vivid in time,
divine in nature.

And the man in the mustache kicks out the jams.
And the man in the mustache kicks out the jams.