swoosh of the pull of
years of five or more, the girls came back and left again, skyclouds and pleasures and motions toward oceans, the elixir was savored a flanger a flavor the awkward sentiment was never hellbent on extravagant notions of time, of rocks in gardens far away, still and surrounded by water sounds and birds, not the sirens of full moon mornings, but the effect of the swoosh of the pull of centrifugal force grasping and holding us gently down on the planet.
