The freedom of this afternoon is worn best.
A weather-beaten man, in solitary wander, feels the tug of jeans acid-washed; showers his immediacy with a tan of leather, radiant light: Glisten--Holy! Hotly!--of the Soul's Brilliance.
Just before the Spirits Market, an unraveling of garment to cover the glow and a masquerade of Propriety Compliance: "The greatest is behind."
There is a world--away from here--where a reality of Tonight's the Night makes more sense than its present mood, here--in our evening's Summer-Soft Contemplation (Parlor).
Dangerous Possibilities discover skylines as natural as By-Product's Thought.
Outside it's so pleasant that I long to terrify myself with psychedelics and allow These/Your arrangements to best suit themselves to Idiom.