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  • Lush
  • Jonathan Moody (bio)

On the rooftop of our hotel, purple stage lighting is a cocktail convincing Madrid’s night sky to use the crescent moon as a strap-on.

& coming out of the speakers is Prince’s edgy voice: so spiritual & seductive in its yearning that the sweat emerging on my glass volunteers to chaperone.

But it’s oblivious to Madrid’s night sky: the way she dances close & slow with a dove; the way she savors flight’s tangy aftertaste.

Shadé kisses me, & I’m paranoid her mouth hears my fantasy; let’s just say it involves plenty of sugar & a hot-air balloon.

My hand on Shadé’s waist is an invitation for her sundress to take a hike & buy the owner of this ultra-chic rooftop bar a drink.

His wife, Cindy Crawford, was Prince’s muse for the song, giving this cosmopolitan crowd eargasms— a song he wrote after he & Cindy moved & grooved

on a dancefloor. He sings about how Cindy’s furrymelting little thing awaits him & his six-string, & I’m convinced no woman should know what a man thinks

while they’re dancing unless that man is Prince, who, even after his death, makes the Madrid night sky feel comfortable with taking charge of her sexuality.

In Memoriam: Prince (1958–2016) [End Page 325]

Jonathan Moody

Jonathan Moody is the author of Olympic Butter Gold, winner of the 2014 Cave Canem Northwestern University Press Poetry Prize. He lives in Fresno, Texas, with his wife and son.

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