slower pace

there, when then was once, floating above that primal and ported sea. the road lifted and caught clean air at eighty. captured and congruent, the lanes were wide enough but still split for spirit. feet on rise and grip pinned, four doors slid quickly by at best and uniform, to hear those amongst caged. said in twenty or less. the nerve, lioness, and nostalgia. riddle me that storyboard. frequent flyer miles on blast, that bay, that blue pokagon bay. the cities never looked so good from up here, the streets so warm to touch. summers here and spring began to begin again. you've slipped, past present and into this.

welcomed, calmly welcomed.