Taffy pull on a milk jug face. Maybe you are ****, maybe I'm a clown learning to dogpaddle. You lifted my car keys using telekinesis, vacuumed the interior. I was sorting scrap for my steel messiah statue when you asked to borrow the last shred of virginity I was saving for my dead fiancee. Sure, start the sounding gun; parquet flooring is embarrassed to touch our bare feet. Yesterday I found out sis was almost given to a family from big white. Mom seemed ashamed that she nearly lost the most beautiful thing she'd ever slapped. Not sure I understood, I was ******* on a soldering iron. I think he'll be nine feet tall, carrying poinsettias and a letter to the local congressman. He might be a she, but I doubt it at this point. A trendy recipe for frozen pumpkin lattes is on the fridge, looking happy about being written. Who put it there? My risk taker with blistered hands, waiting on a client in the sweltering veg room, the microwave desert. This morning you gave my neighbors the copper I was going to use for his hair. It's okay. I think he's a she anyway, and she doesn't look like she cares.