Going nowhere fast - and the drunkard's okay with that
walking by gardens and globes
sundials and a love seat
and the whole place has the scent of 
normality, neither sweet nor stale,

the brewing happy gales destroy tree
branches
randomly. It makes little difference to them
the patterns are either tyranny, 
free or the obsession between these three categories

relating this way, it is summer, and they're delirious, 
almost delirious.

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