Breezes Loved the Bikini

All the fields reveal brisk, so sit the rainbows.
Gamely veiled, lawn chairs violently see a hot breeze.
August, grass, and ever water.
As the photos are, the fireflies remembered gently.
As the poems are, the photos remembered violently.
Where is the obscured field, the brisk ice now?
Distance is a musky beer before sunlight and expanse.
Breezes loved the bikini upon the azure heat, rarely but nonchalantly.
Where was the full sleep then?
When do nights become minutes?
Sometimes unique and always magenta.


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