This is Thom Too.
Sun goes down in a Puerto Rican town
Desecheo’s in the distance.
Tom stands on a roof top, begging for just a few more minutes.
As I await the coming of cosmically complete night,
the bats come out to dance with the setting sun.
I’m happy while I watch their flutters.
My attention shifts naturally towards discerning different sounds
Frogs and insects make their mark on an empty canvass.
Then the faint roar of a loudspeaker,
some wonderfully crazed Spanish music
from the bottom of the hill at the bars.
I walk down the hill while whistling muzak and fiending drugs or sex…
Already a little too drunk but
I’ll powder my nose when I get there,
and shuffle through the throes
with my eyes on my toes that tap ‘til tomorrow