The waves weaved busily below the peach-green glimmer of a stretched cerulean sunset, a panoramic platform captured in the peripheral camera of the eyes. A train approached off the shore, emerging from soft sparse clouds on the horizon mist. Lantern streetlamps glowed pale orange, brighter than daylight, in the crystal clear cold. The scent of pizza swept the sky. The crackle of firewood warmed the mind. The shops were closed. Lovers rollerbladed through empty malls at 2am to the soundtrack of 1920s Christmas embrings echoing through pottery-barn corridors and off the marble floors that skipped their tile-trilled rivets like freeways on tires, tih,tihhhh, tih tihhhhh, tih, tihhhhh, sending shivers of solace up the feet and through their legs. A small terrace quake. Cops collapsed in cowardice. Coffee suspended in space. Circling like a skating rink. Sun dresses cycling in blinks. Kisses exploding in books. Mansions bestowed on the homeless. A business card pinned on a bulletin board bearing only a number that when burnished from a payphone summons a towncar, chauffeuring you to a bespoke pastlife, in the embrace a kindling halflight. Beachside playground swings squeak, changing scenes with every sway. Entering and exiting galaxies in eyes. Shooting stars tracked to their demise. A hammock tied between continents. A pillow pattering your time. Snapshots, snapshots, snapshots, of your MTV mind