Ink Blotches on Parchment

Neptune liked to spin in roller rinks.

How she found one in Prague, I’m not sure,

but her methane kiss was dirty on my lips.

I sat on the edge of space, under disco lights,

and watched as her blue hair fanned around her,

ammonia laughs bursting from her.

We spent most of the night together,

but in the morning she went back to university

with her number tattooed to my tongue,

and her vision a wisp among dreams.