Then the Wild Cherries

I saw her reflection on a glass table, as I cut white stripes with a razor sharp credit card. She was a falling petal making way for the wild cherries and she moved among the young and the beautiful like she belonged.  

I handed her the rolled up ten I got on the island and said my name so she wouldn’t forget. She looked at me and I was rebuilt from the root. And when she spoke it felt good to be a man because I was her man.

She said she wanted good times and bad mistakes, I said she came to the right party.

In the strange mist of dancing smokers we got high. A dreamer’s high fuelled by drugs and music and I imagined we were in Love, even wished it would never end. But I was wishing on a falling petal and she would hit the ground and break both our reckless souls with her momentary brilliance.