Mysticism, at its finest.

On tuesdays, wednesdays, saturdays, Somedays,

the unspoken words of our unrequited characters crash

into the hard wood.

The speakers scream

mouthfuls of ceramic tiles painted blue and green --

spilling into lagoon at the center of it all.

And when the statue melts into the pediment

of your collared colloquialisms,

I'll mark it on my calendar,

and dance to the sound

of your hair being brushed and

your fingers praying for Magic.