Improv: Marks' "Semper Augustus"

Flakes and flashes of the same color, goes the entry,
and I can't help but think of you, the same age as me
but a different shade, darker in the evening fading us
into ourselves, into our own hues and shapes.

It is a beautiful flower, you say, though once
can hardly determine beauty of any sort;
no botanical garden (or other place we smoked

weed drunk) could ever exhibit its bloom

which now, in that light, accrues all that florin,
that demented coin and paper for its own
pocket, for you and your purse that sag
under your own weight. I, with an allegory,

set the record straight, and with a grin set
you into motion in my orbit, Andromeda
waltzing. We watch your movies and I spit
grains into my lunchbox for reminders.