skaters

I think i am lying down, 12 inches of back burnt and salivating on sand, finely cut and crystal sea gag as it hits my throat. And i look up through pin hole eyes at the miles of liquid, weightless and cool, i look up and see nothing but grids of sun, waving their arms to me, slowly, left to right. Turquoise and blood red, my ears are catching the bent notes of forged religions bowing in unison and smell the singed hair and bubblegum pop. Notice my clothes; i am fully submerged and unsupported. On evenings darker than this, i have pressed up against the loneliest crowds of squirming cowards, wrapped my forehead in pamphlets and brochures and dawn wept down the phone of jammed dating hotlines.