Kins of nap for wipe of grin
is ever over moistly down
but it's just enough for now.
Pale beauty breath sparks low
in a two-part push of bending now
and, out where an ether of blues
glows orange pulled to please,
there's a minor key of salivate.
So many records of scratchly
spin with background noise
of births of static sans respite.
A white echo holds a name in spin
for grins of snap that wipe the grin-
Dance, dance, dance,
when all you need is funny.