So many times I have hungered for your penetrative love. Your shirt was torn when you crashed that new helicopter. I couldn't believe that you weren't killed. The Grand Canyon is deep. I pray that your helicopter is operational. My sister is having another baby again. Can you believe it? Skipper wouldn't strip on the ship, even after I struck, with an oar, her lip. It's John Hinckley's foster love that makes me fester. I respond in attack-mode to mod attacks. I tire of me after long spurts. The pope's people-friendly, while I'm 'possum-nutty. It's true. I'm faultfully honest. Rose, like risen, is the past tense of rise.