the beginning of a june

Because it is summer and the sun is so welcoming, and the people are unraveled, and my eyes are pried wide, delightfully reveling, unbridled by morality, for a second I thought gladly, the world had become heavenly, spied I, so readily, humanity unsaddled, and bear of transgressions or sins of the form, but the thought became maddening, the presence unsatisfying, denied embrace or connection, and even the promise of an ongoing norm, o transitory flesh, a blemish  not imperfection, but the simple projection, of lasting satisfaction, a fleeting sensation, longed for once tasted, and scalded now, still waiting, for the intimate enveloping, implicitly understood to be summer's boast.