I am on the promenade in June
I am alone, but that does not matter
There is a beach cafe, not too far away
I am warm, in the meditative midday sun
Already I have been writing quite some time, yet this mood hit me in an instant, while reading John Fante's Ask The Dust
I have no desire to move
I am settled into the surroundings
There is light traffic, but that's no bother
I am happy watching passers by pass by
What was I thinking, not to have washed out my mouth; the residue of lust, all mindful and horny
