Cherries plucked at the poolside, nectar dripped blotter upon lethargic tongues. Tropicana blue water sparkling with sunny gold. Poetic horns swoon like a palm tree over the nude romantix. Champagne fizz jacuzzi streams, the pleasures of conformity. Blurry erotica on aerobic videotapes, aerial camera eyes spy, crawling chemicals across bronze peaks and valleys, a landscape of feminine lust in repose. I can't believe it's not butter, don't leave home without it, the buzz of the cathode ray cracking a digital smile, to stay fresh a little longer. Dazed in the hotel summer, reach out and touch someone, where a kid can be a kid. Making drugs to break music to bake slugs to. Nostalgia rearranged, reformatted, waterlogged in chlorinated baptism, kid tested, mother approved, milk does a body good. Where we're going, we need roads.