Summer Salt
đ January 14, 2020
Lately forking from the prism of july:
Where, between a wallpaper sky and a beachball tarp, the weatherâs better.
They strum wooden motorycles (with leather straps)
While the watercolor cloud, tinctured with ambrosia gel, glides on sly as a tincan rhyme
The singer cooes in rococo hues
And she chooses caramel chews
Shakes her hip like a hula hoop
Free of
the worldâs random violent warp