Your Oblivion was my fluency
My tango tongued wrecking experience
For a twelve tone dreamer like me

Smokey cabaret concertina
For my hexagonal gritty desire
My unrestrained vulgar Libertango

Mister Piazzolla
May I call you Astor?

Your polyphonic eloquence is the pulse of this very phrase
Breathing poignantly desiring flesh
The undeniable freedom that paints me
Cavernously juxtaposing my reality and existence in the golden of your pastiches