SET The night is hot with the reflection kicking off the moon and the night kicking off. I put my fingers in wet cement and learn how to spell. Your name is like summer buildings with the purple blue pink gold embossed and the moon even further. I like to dance, and so do you apparently, so all there’s left to do is proving. But more about the moon, and how it reflects your smile up, onto my lips. And more about your lips, your lips, your lips. Your hair is a lot more. You asked me once, to eat off of it. Yes is of course what I said back. You’re made of something, and I’m made of something, and I don’t wanna know what. Smoke from your cigarette is getting in the way of the moon, of the moon, of the moon, and I can hear the music and see what it’s doing to your muscles; the flex they’ll press into me. But back to the moon, and your hair, and those werewolves. I am an American in Paris in my own little movie with dancing to prove and your hair, and your lips,
words by WILL MOUNTAIN COX @willmountaincox photograph by EILEEN W. CHO @yo_cho
and the moon.