I can sing the letters and numbers of the desktop, the pictures and the album covers too. I just wanna write the emu and the llama, this pretty little song for us two. You were the cleft of my pen, in my pocket; a red and white hen made the song for us together. Patriotic poultry and poetry inverse, backwards ***** parties, in the ringing of the bells- leather fairy tales do come true.

You can rub my lamp if I can peel your onion, build your rocks and roll 'em up hills. Get Sisyphus's number and call him every Sunday, help him heal his sunburn with the Solarcaine, plus Aloe Vera from Jewel.

The grocery standard, the man standing there, Walgreen's jerks that have weaves in their hair. I can pick a postcard, write a little letter, exercise my legs in my sleep. You can cry while you're still happy, I can cheer for laughter, your backpack has this picture of Asian imported meats. My sheets they are bleeding, cotton and polyester, eiderdown goose-feathered quills. We search for the highways and take a lot of pictures, I give two rings, the second has black onyx or may be moonstone. Either way it's hard to tell who's who.

The penguins in the pantry, the wockets in your pockets, the socks with the letters and codes. Black and white paper bills, money for monkeys, colorful elephants in zoos. You can soak them in the water, but don't use more than three, because under the age is a rotten assortment of youth faulted in disease.

After we left the party, I bought a little artwork, we spoke in country voices to a drunk man with a trollop bar-hop at the movie theater in downtown suburbia, he was very *****, really such ******, at fifty he flirted with girls in black uniforms. I have just turned thirty, you are twenty-one, my phone rings, it's my mother- pause....

"The food is here. Pizza every-one."

I said, "Pizza." For E-V-E-R-Y One. It can't eat itself so we've got to be going. Coca-Cola maraschino drinks. A brownie with a sundae, even vegan almond ice cream can be considered ordering the kitchen sink. Just around the corner in the village outside of So-**, I opened a store for a gag-hag who is tall. He's a **** on one cylinder, provocative and insular, he also has a sunburn too. Each one of his cycles is hiding on an icicle, the intern we hired doesn't eat so often that he doesn't even poo.