Painted nails, like galaxies,
instigate dream journeys to Pluto's sky -
of whirling leaves and ecstasy -
of walking railroad ties.
Where music enveloped moonlight -
romance followed 'art walking' flannel folk.
Winter coaxed us into green rooms,
or to speak easy when we spoke.
Remember holding coffee close,
sinking into sofas as though enmeshed?
Hanging onto morning while the world froze -
letting whispered secrets coalesce?
Take 66 through the fifty,
linger in ponderosas, catch your breath.
Know that guarding hearts with whiskey
won't change the wind or break what's left.
Here, stars adorn night differently
leaving lost girls gazing in swirls of paint
Pluto, too, may be forgotten soon,
but trains and tides can't wait.
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