On point, a bit ornamental, but in a white suit in winter kind of way.
And subtle. It's like: you want to know what happens after and under all this acid talk. Give me some direction or deep explanation, but instead you keep getting this flowery alliterated enumerations of all the stuff the hippies are talking about. Which after a while, one realizes, it's a perfect mirror of the acid movement itself.
Another subtle, subversive, satirical yet steel-manned criticism from Tom Wolfe.
(Perhaps a silly thing to say after he's already passed away and established his legacy, but I'm just reading him for the first time, so let me out some slack.)