deliberate nonchalance

He’s underneath my window crooning in a tailored tuxedo, bought to be his branded costume, marking him from another age when swilling alcohol begat a kind of civilized culture losing ground from the Vegas mob connections, fearing power, hiding in inhospitable valleys of a Rocky Mountain get away. Tall with imported luxuries yet still beautiful in intonations, in the self-deprecations of love, taking aim at deliberate nonchalance, whispers of good times, hints of money fueled orgies and the good luck of good times.

Lord Malinov, Song of Songs

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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