When the man falls asleep at night, his tongue escapes its prison of foggy dreams and wanders high into the Hollywood hills. The tongue howls with coyotes, tastes the color of the moon and bloodsugar of sweet memories ripening on the vine. Of the bawdy boulevard sounds drifting high into the hills, tongue makes up its own words and sings along. Those melodies sail high into the night, past stars and planets, digs the buckshot of disbelievers from heaven’s door. Tongue eventually creeps back home and curls up in the sleeping man’s mouth. In the darkness, the man is once again reunited with his lover, voice.