she watches from her window with a view

you have a room with a view
of a California palm tree
but the guys next door watch porn, so you close your blinds
on summer nights.

the coffee is bitter of Columbia stink;
so
tally the scratches on the wall
of nights of insomnia

these
firework nights
it don't matter
that we don't know where we go

those people doomed to photographs
don't wine taste like we

its 2am outdoor alcohol
see how
by candlelight we sweat

we sit
salty and shining by the moon.

the suns don't shine
and gods don't smite
tonight only americans explode bombs in our sky.