Standing on the lip of a canyon -
The sunset spilling blood on the sand,
The bright, floating drops hot,
Like glitter fresh off a dancer's breasts -
Fortune caught my eye.
She winked,
Touched the tip of her tongue to the sharp edge of one fang,
Glided closer,
Pressed shivers into my neck
With a soft palm.
I felt her teeth graze my ear,
Her breath condensing on my skin
As she commanded in a whisper:
"Watch this."
She flitted away,
Bowed theatrically -
Laughing,
Kicked a drum set and a cymbal off a cliff.
Numbly, I pressed 'record,'
And listened to the air whistle
Before the punchline.
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