I saw your hair on fire
September 1987 in Philadelphia
At least it looked that way to me.
Long, white and flowing under blinding yellow lights
River of air, liquid melody
I’m turning my face toward the sun
Covered in dew at the first light of morning
The circle of days
The circle of sound
The sun wraps around my face today
And burns me close to your heartbeat
I still hear that
I pray to always feel that.