Only some of the parallels to Bonnie Carlin's
face will submit themselves to my intimate
inspection. The first one is nary a wisp.
It consists of two or more solid lines
separated by a viscous yellow film and
redolent of Thursdays in the park with
Nathan Jones and his corpulent friend
Jon P Wilmont. They appear to be no older
than nine or ten with the exception
of a rag in the hind end of a '53 Studebaker.
I gathered her unto my bosom and stanched the bleeding
before anyone had a chance to compare my knees
to those of Joe Namath. It wasn't a good fit.
I had my pride and she had her OWN viscous yellow goo,
.... in spades. Why is it always some mealy-mouthed cretin
who completes a sentence of three seconds
in a purgatory of one's own making?
It goes that way by preening in its own soup ,
.. not even salivating like 'all get out'.
Do I have a crime to see yet over yonder way?
I don't think so, I'm afraid. Over and out,.-or- under and in.
Your move, oh trusted advisee... Until the last time.
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