Rocky VII

Some snowy lullaby 

inside a tribal Telluride, 

so I can take you to 

voluptuous grounds, 

where moons hang upside down. 

And I will melt down 

mountains 

with twice 

the electric timing. 

Hitchhiked with vans, 

white as my fingertips. 

Blow luck to bits— 

falling with stars— 

and me back home 

inside 

your arms. 

And I remember what 

one stranger said, 

“The universe must love you.”