Purple Paintings Still Shine After Dinner Time

Sandi McAllister, did you know that the way you dance was considered drug traffic. But when your feet broke nothing was there to be a fall, not even an autumn leave graced those days when you ankles were strong and your eyes were beautiful, god those were the days. When yellow and wine were both together to create warning and memorable blood stains on the bedroom floor. My dear Sandi why did you scream at night, it was like you were chocking, just under tight covers, so soft and so silk. You were breathing I could tell it wasn’t no mistake that you selfishly liked to breathe on a time when the moon reflected everything that was to sure to show through gazing blue rivers, you liked it didn’t you. You treated everything like a cave, full of bats of black and rocks of spike stains. You never knew what you were looking for no matter it be a song to sing or a dance to die in, you were always to unsure of where to be when the Sunday nights looked so pretty, i