Follow me, I’m no God at this. I can’t write black. I’m overbred, you’re better. I can’t say I sought your tone. I haven’t the length to pen the trope. Stale is more than enough for this boor. Your bandstand is ineffable. Your coastguards were beheaded. Your pet bear is sloshed. You’ve lent me many a documentary, but they’ve yet to teach me anything. The service delivered but I’ve never had my package tied. I regret to say I’m unable to recognize your unpossessed empires. I didn’t catch the look you bent. Anyway, my commuter has stalled. Now I’m unable to pass turds. I’m buffer than Anastasia. I’ve just turned key-lime into diarrhea. Don’t you get a kick out of my yacht? Which hell do men die? I forgot what I was going to pay. I still can’t find a pan that wrecks and then I shake my pen still. You know what a farce rape is these days. I admit I haven’t been riding my unicycle. Time never seems to have time for what I need. I’m all out of slippery bogs to put the cold pews in. I didn’t get the memorial. I want to lick the bonbons. I’ve never had a pale tit. I couldn’t get the sickly door to work, so I called. I went from A to Z with a witty scamp. If I could only get back to waiting, then I’d catch the easy train. When Ra oped mine eyes I got on famously like an unplugged brook.
For Harryette Mullen