The sun sets o’er an idle bay.
The gulls who’ve lulled now fly away.
It feels like summer’s here to stay
And something smells like ****.

The night becomes a serene blaze
Of stars that are a humbling maze.
I walk home with a fastened gaze
And it still smells like ****.

The fog falls as I reach my door.
Beauty I see — city no more.
Streets are streams; buildings fade to moor.
I must have stepped in ****.

The beauty we see can astound
But order breaks.
—

Ugliness lingers
In every beautiful thing.
Check your shoe.