Light and casual is a threatening male supposition. 
 
Preceding that, I usually snooze after a bonfire of love, like flames glow, not one note of cynicism vis à vis whom I adopt.  
It’s better after I begin to wake I’ve landed. A roundhouse in the sun is great. I merge at the top, asleep..  
  Moreover, I landed. A roundhouse in the sun.. I said. The left knee just there when it took a variant position in a summary sequence of scratches —  
 
an honest hermaphroditic itch countermanded in ambiguity until it goes away — released at last into newly impartial states, witless after a while, still asleep. But undead.