City bikes with friends. Brewery after brewery, pint after pint.
87 degrees and a little muggy. Portland explodes with people. In the park, white bodies sprawl across the grass, sail through the air after frisbees. Dogs and humanity. Babies and bums. Bodies moist with sweat, hearts saturated with sunshine.
At the bottle shop, a Pliny the Elder.
At the next stop, a celeste-and-gold Ducati.
At the wine shop, something French and 4 crystal wine glasses to drink it from.
Fill front baskets.
Ride home carefully.
Punch drunk on the first summer day.
I QOM’ed the joy segment. Shot film. Wanted to rotate this to the left but Sal said, “No, leave it like it is. It’s perfect.”
He’s right more often than I care to admit.