A thin noise of a song buzzing
from a trebly cell-phone speaker
binds the table and the restless fingers
in with the dissipating wisp of smoke.

An old drunkard with rose cheeks
breaks into a wheezing laughter
while a boy peers out of a window
and shepherds them voluptuous clouds.

From somewhere in between a body
pressed under a heavy blanket,
summoning the white furred guardian,
a dream slips out like loose change.

Hiding in the dirty matted locks
is the secret tune of the hills
that appear and disappear
with the pulse of our longings.