... People, what you doing? ...It starts with big frisks in half-disc days.Cavalcade of wants, slim décolletagesall up in the affluence of forgetfulness.The haberdasher forgot a necessary button& now the ready body talks through the spacebetween zippers. This land of shiny unbuckles& high heels. Geography of I like it so much.Topography of I want it so much as we walkup the backside of a treble clef. It's an actualepistle—seaside with the heavy clouds,slick sunbathers minding their own libidos.Hair ties high noting wrists in the long arch& excavated bites in the land of rough play—red & smitten by the bright lake, a cityof fights right behind us. These sticky treesburning beautifully, these edged pee on me 'sat the ledge of decency. Sometimes the tonguetrips & it feels like a slip down the throatof a handy trumpet. I still don't know howit ends: leathery reliquary in my thin falsettomaybe, while your hips look like a coupleof question marks just about to hook up.