...brown skin shinin' in the sun/ you got that top pulled down and that radio on, baby....
The air is soft, like a favorite cotton sweater, like a powder puff, like a lover's breath just before a kiss.
In evening, driving is a delight. After suffering all day in the blazing sun, the relative cool of night is delicious, accented as it is by eighties tunes from the cheap but working stereo.
It's been beastly. That is, like an actual beast. As in like being trapped in the mouth of a slobbering Labrador.
My body thrums and hums with restlessness. Nothing satisfies. I am at once bored, with too much to do. Speaking of which, the Maryland Renaissance Festival opens next weekend. In the meantime, I've been rehearsing something else. Coco wrote Real to Reel, and I've been having fun in a small supporting role. Come see me if you like; red carnation (or indeed any clothing) entirely optional.
I go for beer and decompression, stay for conversation. Topics range from watermelon to penis size to fuzzy keyboards.
"I thought that was you, but you were backlit by the cooler and then you didn't come in so I figured it wasn't. Come to find out, it was you, and you were just being an asshole."
Strangely, I am touched by this.
(Boys of Summer; Don Henley)