I kissed the stars, drunk where they lay in the sky. I�d taken happiness from a brown bottle, more gulped than sipped--the way the stars fade at dawn. There was daybreak in my mouth because I wanted to feel the cool concrete on my sunburned face and the headlights from cars that wink as they pass by screamed for me to hang up. The gardens and the lakes and the flowers still clung to my eyelids as the wavered in intervals of three and four seconds. Across phone lines with a woman from the coast who shared her thighs with my hips. I swore innocence by pretending we were done and asking for the name of the shop we bought pads of paper in while traveling San Francisco.