yes yes, we all know who i really am.god knows i should have stopped by now.
Guest
so in conclusion to my ''brief'' search....
a list:
people to whom i might''give-one''
[ i hear thats what they call it these days]
if persuaded with a warm teapot and some oven gloves.
perhaps on a wet tuesday evening...somewhere with scatter cushions...somewhere soporific with the central-heating set up far too high...
the lounge.
a small fold-away table,
neglected cups of tea,
crochet chair covers,
headlights from the passing cars,
on floral wall paper,
and across our skin...
as the no 20 bus slides past the sitting room window,
and my pants slide gently to the floor...
the only sounds:
faint barks from next-doors dog,
the far away hum of pylons...
and breathless sighs of rising and falling couch springs....
hey nonny ninny
stan cooke
notastitchtowear
morrissey the 23rd
gender nectar
3/4 of a person
mindy
and if i may be briefly and childishly cruel:
people who fall short:
[in more ways than one]
no luck for these folks:
mr pooper.
genghis mc shit pants
mr pooper.
''mr crabs'' the diseased orangutang.
mr pooper,
the heavy weight turd of the entire universe.
