There's a still in the night, a tuneless moonlight. Just the I-need-you-and-here's-whys of snoring Gords and Cheryls. There's a heron outside, in violet light.
Me and the vivid girl. In our hammock to the stars. Staring into the fire before TV. The remote control's on Mars. . In the dope of the pigment. In a poetic state of mind.