Warm, golden, smooth, soft skin, but underlain with tense ferocity--waiting, perhaps, only to be unleashed? It trembles, just so slightly, when he's touched; it ripples vaguely--nearly imperceptibly-- as the clouded moon dances over darkend waters.
Looking down the darkened hallway,
I see three pools of light
where the photons drip from a quantumly incandescent sky.
The smog hangs low and thick over the City of Angles, looking for all the world like a demon smirking at the child's game being played out beneath her distanced eyes. Orange-blue and glowing, the night sky opens and tears of hilarity drop on the Hollywood streets.