11,041 vagabonds plus:
Summer and maximum tilt, we bow to King Orb. Vagabonds, invisible orphans, avoiding the heat in the shade under the bridge, bare feet dipped in receding coolness. Commerce rumbling like thunder above on the overpass, truckers with over the limit loads, heavy eyelids, on the lookout for radar men, thinking towards home. And the lonely on the longest day. On the creaking porch, thunder in the distance, a cool breeze signalling much needed rain. Reading and re-reading love letters from far away, her axis tilts at the speed of a slow waltz only for him, imagining closed curtains from the nosy Sun, bareness sprawled north by northwest on clean cool white linen.
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