...Because if somehow, somewhen,
magic pixie dust fell,
covering you from head to toe,
and you began rising up up up,
off to Neverland,
the first thing I'd grab onto,
is the ****.
And you'd be saved.
We'd be happy forever and ever,
or until our love grows cold,
we stop:
sleeping together, kissing, hugging, touching,
and the signature curves all over
on divorce papers at a balding lawyer's office.