The ever ending rhythm that
is enigmatic for its end.
Energy we've harnessed, released
outdoors is framed with peeling pain,
patios and porches: a perplexed
person walking, a puerile puppy.
We party as if the patrons
had as much to proffer: we prevail
over Saturday--the scratched hours,
suds, the sultry nature of sex,
or jubilation of the sad,
pitiful; what is smart assail.
Green prevails, garnishing our moods,
we we: gregarious and mad charming.
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