moveable target. We’re

not sure, but you seem to have a firm grasp of the ephemeral. I’m writing the pages on your income tax plan just now, and we’ve gotten to the part where you have to propose changes. Hold on to your hats. Hold on to your shoes. Hold on to your wristwatches. They may need rewinding. Pilfer a few packs of gum and hose down the garage. We’re having a hootenanny in the morning. None of you need apply. The spots have all been taken by out of work menders and nail filers. They don’t let cribbage interfere

cankers. They rehabilitate without

warning. How many are you. I can’t see through my eyes. There’s an image of petite nostrums on my tongue. You wander in and out as though you cared. Creep up on someone else. That stove doesn’t gas. We’ll make do until the cavalry contrives. Capacious windmills spool out their raspy lullabies. No one listens. Does your gum lose its chew. Don’t belabor the spurious. That’s a wish of heart felt marginality. We suppose your support cancels that check. Immobility won’t get you anywhere. Threesomes are the way to go. I’m innately dandruff. Won’t you soliloquize