punctured veil

post-solstice, the summer light rhythmically fading to less lengthy days, creeps upon with new noise at the shared position of the sun. six am now isn't what six am was just a month ago. while with the barking crows, ravenous and of breakfast, in comes the slow-to-approach-the-days, the onslaught of back-up beeps, responsible horns of trains and cars alike, through that thin and brackish railed tunnel, under your trapped mask of treedom. as in the heat escaping a cool camped fire, bending waves of light audience and heard audio, the first marks of rain fell by seven-thirty, finding way, a maze, from cloud down to tea, to book, to a lazily shaved head atop a poison oak'd body basked in a stringent tea tree oil. I stooped-it again to revisit a new friend, only old in seconds per say. maybe she'd be walking that heeler in the rain, I thought, but I only lasted as long as I could. this book cost money ya know. a clean yellow flannel and wet wool socks crept back amongst the noble grey light and between the jams. class in ten, tea is near gone and definitely lost the heat energy. maybe another Tuesday morning, the Pogues, maybe the crows, maybe I don't really care yet curious. most don't think that we don't see light but only the vibrating "things" the waves of radiation bounces off of. nothing new, nothing shy of surreal, but a theme from yesterdays spilled over psilo trip, a red automobile flanked by an old blue house and of full sun. even reading proved difficult with that swayed mind.