Postage not included
  Batters not provided

                                 lavender forgone as your lips, hips, your wide bastion of plate and song

           the love you could have gone,
                                                                             and i am whispering with my lips

      acorss the boom,

                           come to me           acorn, i  can't speak what i could not speak,

 speaking to you in the tender of night 

     crossing the bellwhether of the dill with a cinammon pressed thread

                                                     as no one's seen Mona in thebackwater pushing rigging loves

             on t he fair top sail of your body and it's as if a  hand cloned the wikced passage

                            of french to english and english to french and you're holding me
                         you're beholding me mama  ,

                                                               like a song in any dirty bandanana 

Miss doubloon and Miss Rangoon

                                                                                           apprised of all matters

                 their rapport with the king  (of bodies and sex)

                                                              reporting to the rear desk

                                              where al smiles made

  So thursday was missing you , again,  as  usual

                   again ,

                                 missed her,