City. Transit. Stairs, gates, fares, ticket, turnstiles, two miles, doors open. Jazz, a rare groove, one more move. Exit. Improvisation. My muse treads in this sea of light and fashion. Between stars and signals, data roams. I am so incredibly far from home.


Population. Night, leather, tight, suede, short, Made in Japan. She is one of them but like none of them. And I have her number. Count to three. Dive. The current is gentle, polite, sweet perfume and perfection. I am in love with a woman, with a direction. I drift east, happy and alive.


Intersection. Feet, crossing, streets, waiting, waiting, waiting until she meets… me. Love chose the time, the place, booked my flight, and I have to make a connection. Through wind, I passed unblown. Through water, I passed unthrown. But I will not pass this fire unknown. Unbeknownst to me it is:


She calls. I pick up and receive her. Lost in translation, she finds her way… to me. Bows, eyes, music, pauses, smiles. An autograph. Gates. Fares. Two tickets. Turnstiles. Two miles. The door is open. Bows, eyes, a shaking of hands. Exit. On with our lives.


A neon fantasy.

originally featured in the liner notes of A Messenger & A Fire, circa 2011