On the chaise longue, on the chaise longue, on the chaise longue,
All day long on the chaise longue.
Following the great pause,
mild epiphanies flow like molten silk
through the multicolored canals of the mind.
Indeed, I was just pondering
the aesthetics of the chaise longue.
The curves and rise colliding seamlessly together,
crushed velvet absolving the body of its responsibilities.
Sometimes what I want is to be ethereal,
and this isn’t one of these times.
I inhabit this woozy moment,
imbibing its nectarine sweetness.
Kinda warms the solar plexus
with nuzzles and nifty kisses.
It’s uplifting, no?
in a generic brand sort of way.
And so, what do these curtains,
so carefree and barely parted, contain?
Merely the night, my son. Merely the night.