not a proposition. It’s

a career choice. My chrome barrettes please their mothers. Don’t poke me. It’s transgressive. We campaign on the champagne ticket. You negate my interior constipation. It’s altruism in the extreme. Members of my club have devoted themselves to inhibition. We thrive on your obsolescence. Do we attract money. It’s impossible to shell out more nuts than fence posts. Your personal brain trust has it all figured out. Figure in a few percent for the mollusks. They don’t go home without it. Coil that pillow as though you mean it. Empty a tall one. There’s a shack

sorrowful. Fuddle

the clever. Range across your pastures while the rain coddles an image of downcast polemics. They rise. In other words, say the same thing. You’ll make friends with your rabbit. It supports a minimum of savage flamingoes. They poke at your eyes and tickle themselves pink. Turn out, turn out. The cops vet your documents. All things reconsidered, make an effort this time. You’ll have help but resist the urge to blurt. Restraint wins circuses, but not caravans. They brake for mollusks. Handle yourself. In a separate climate, you’d melt into smoke. Don’t get ribald at inappropriate times