1/30/2005

high speed, fibre-optic quick-twitch cupcakes

(trying to write posts in under 60 seconds... here's the mess that follows)

The pesto was thick
and your accent too
the spices quick
your lactose flu
my body sore after
I beat it
the meat is grilled
is there someone to
eat it?

Here's the toast
buttered nice
I’m serving you
I’m asking nice
you want more
more
more
I can give you everything
there’s a grocery store
it’s next door


I am light and frivolous and contemptuous and falling free into fingering ecstasy. I learn the notes inside your soul, touch those strings in your heart; the wood of your body is a fine sculpture and the keys of your fingers... I want to play you like a Stradivarius. I am convinced you are quite an opera. I am certain you will be my finest symphony; let us get together and celebrate musically. I am the player, the flute, here is the whistle, wet; give it a toot. I am an empty red wine flute. I need a computer to give me the boot.

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