swimming through muscles of divine Spring feel good to be young again their lurching and unlurching smoothness of blade
is a grass between the the thighs where giggles little the all of the world in two new newness of old always being.
)it's boys and girls and gardens and the cheapest hot glass of dark dark dark wine through your lips on a cherry afternoon there is the fresh slung amber of a girl hand in her girl hands' slowly slinging of trite *** waisted in some hips gravure
tussel
tusseling
with the irreverent marvel of life lived insmiply insipidly sipid . A Dream Like Paris