Without responsible efforts it gets closer to the sleeping city. Fish-cool, the piling of water throws its bones around. Along the towering glass wall a scheme reflects the intruder. Losing a wave's center, the forces resemble a stage shortly before the last push at birth. Tunnel-foam, grabbing the surfer.
Former arguments connect smoothly.
Under spread legs, two blues partake in one cut. Sun oil destabilizes the feet on a slippery board. In a shape of wet gravity, both, the rider and the ridden bow to each other. On such contradictions Berkeley, the chasing of students' surging out brother-boys. I feel my father's rented rib.