Let's go to Bolivia and blow shit up, drunk on aged mescal.

I can be the rocket, and you the target, or vice versa.

Let's walk through the desert,
measure our lives in, I dunno, some sort of standard based in earth,
stars, animals.

Meanwhile, who cares?
We will make that art, or we are screaming, crying,
licking all the corners and sides,
together as we should be together.

The world moves.
Our perceptions of the world move us.

We have eaten enough, partaken enough
that the world lives in us.
We might roll our trousers up in a flood,
know which cutlery to use, and when, and how.

Dance with me, anytime, anyplace.
Please.  We can own time and place
with this small purchase.

Will you make me crazy, or I you?
But I want to go, with you.


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