deafness to the mute

This way in Jill's got a blown brain . Grass and glass her figure 's as fine as the weird night and its epic Simone. Paris suiting her fie fie fie persona she's happy harloted and vained.

No brains make for a luxurious waste but this was not matter but gulnerability. She's a word personage. Not a creeping vine! a mustybust smack of her sapphic self , loving the vines of her lady's tree ~Open the latitudes I have come to make your smooth striate ~ . Of the humpydumpshes' beefed her egg and ragged her moon. Rasp and Caspian sea are her over logs. The rogue park alongthe quais and her English the twisting tongue. Her fruitful fly's bearing soldiers and camarados. Bucaneers on the near buttocks.

As for Gilles and Guattari she passes them in the street without a word

Mona crying, her name

crying out her[e] name ~ .


Onyx-eared boxed in delicate labyrinthe she doesn't hear a thing a thing ~ .


saying ~ forsake_love this O lorn!

she says each delay is a treachery I smooth her eyebrows with my wrinkles:Thus Jill's remissive
____________The paradox of smithy's and certain creators. Makesthe rush ever frosting.

Jill moves next door to

Geology. She's a thoughtful

student of layering platitudes,

but that does not mean she's

not real. Or reel to reel inthe

spook of weaving.A tube and

gyre across her pealed gray

over horses. Across the courts

her emblem's clear. AS a

shadow and inside her sweet

buttock it's the brand of a

lover's name.

She's held to this the hour and

being what she is shes in and

out and over the roof. Come

along rain and snow she's

buried her mitt. Do the senses

quicken? At the sight of her

lost olfactory she's returne

the good things of life, it's a

turning turning thing this lama

wheel of habit.


Mona you aggravate me with your inn and hotel, yer bottle and tube and this tucking off of the golden folded garment. A stir to open your sides. A witch to kiss the eyelids of the toad and the yellow witch's broom.

Over the crazy plane she's murmuring its felt finger, the carpet word to its rapture carnal as the wheeling kneel.

Her bellow song furs.

Jill bows out a semiotics of pleasure. The enunciated prayertune.


thing there

_____________Keep this the pell mellow routing and frozen ahs! over the bone tingle. the saying so and not, and loisir close to the bank of the Seine. a cold shuttered room able to thought. its bearing delight. humbled by precendence and immanence's kind neighbour.

_____________over a piano key Jill reading glasses bent to page. He's worrie that the weather's stopped becoming and treeing its way to forest. Gallop over the stomach plane of the flat window. Not close to Chartres is an olden room, click clack along the stair and outside down in the street .... the street? yes, says Franny we're closer to the moment than ever and holding its back breath. Come my lover these are gods in these mazes and the wind dark avenue ferries your breath ghost over my tunnels, leaves alofty in rain.

Call that Paris _ in December .


in the saying and betray




This way the night hears your

Jill turns the coroner of this way. That ways them ray itsthe solid heel of its thought following amber

Night's Jill's home she lives there with thereader. The reader's a pen explains things. Working day and night on her completely uncollected working fragmenting work

Death never beleaguers her
Life invites her again again and again

Turning the corner of becoming's her alive.




We've heard of night and its belongings the possessive trail of unions and reunions. The transcendent god and her roles ruthless as the sun . The tail's turned its hubcap madcap to the perhaps of herding feet. Never a sun to tear their song.

Mona takes Frfrfrfraanny to a 12 step ontology ~.




quarter moon has ...

Unthing the moon, its hinge floating high and the women tapped their heads. Low ruminous clouds packed the afternoon sky that banked its ruffled feathers of light close to the heat of day's lingering burn. Was the prose of that thought poetic to its extreme legibility?

The music was horns and it might have been corny but love was real. How about the shadow surrounding the wood? And the tiger burning bright up grabbing your coat .... and then its first tearing... and we lifted up the raft pushing on further to the other shore making our way by the past beyond the past hanging its wings no one left tangling its wrist

and the world miracle closer came to its trees and vaults
opening up the sidewoods....


Jill cottoned to the moment, bringing herself back from the edge calling the
number... ringing the only hotel in existence...

from that moment she gave up preaching.....




Wash day was the rain

This way Jill's got headgear and that's a lot.

A lot of what wrought iron steel

is the worn path way up the meadow at the top or the sort of ridge
of the hill's peak. that's the way love is its at the top'

__________________ Mona: you said that already. Sort of ....


in this string world

in that string world. she's beckoned to her peace. O the wish of . the ,_ No, its not the unconscious that makes us happy . But unhappy as the old symbols dry as dust. and beside that, what were the point of its useless trappings? If Jill hear these reply its because she knew its place over the city .and in Warsaw one saw that. Clear as the honest celerity of its restive poise.

Shes a great daft waste. No! its because around the ruin. the fort. a determination to succeed pas the area of its last repetition. Its petition to gods and sowing . And this way its heard in the resonance. No it s not. yes its not. Okay its not. but everything has its place. not the way an object falls perçu but how its received by and by and gripped to the breast of one . loving and loving. giving gived .

Breast of rope and love .




T'was how she heard it the merry ship of Windsor. And the remainder? reams of legal pads, and the king's head frothed in the ruin.And the beach, alongside the odd knuckle shaped banks .. filled with people wearing cotton and ornaments, hair wore long and tangled with streaks of pink red, butting the ruin, a stream. This has been the condition of waiting. What fairy elf thing quaffs its thirst in this way, this manner of bowing scraping and heapin?

Cast aside along the quay _ it's near the university. That's the cafe Sartre and his lot drape themselves. They do . Drape. Linger they linger over cafe, and smoke. The smile of air and existentialist day, the late totality of the rising. Capitalist cost of wheat. China's in trouble, and the Indian subcontinent's in a rage. That woman's feet and buttocks. Her lesbic two self and the .After we heard that Sartre's giving a talk. But there was music. And someone else said let's go to hear that other one. We went we left we came along. Joyce's grave Switzerland, where is it I can't recall. At Montparnasse Lord Tzara king of the gods and poet his approximate man. A forgotten poet. None read his. None read. Read none other celebrated silliness of poet. Stock price go up then sidewise round. Come back again. It's done and the jewel thief. he's not that good, buthe s good enough to capitivate the publisher of those sort of set of verse and .

Tramp on the lean ship my love thee is the way to toi. Thee vous is the word clingage. Clinic of the trumping fright!

And the highway bereft of its song and
the sold wheat the buried oat of the trunk
and the oak of the fair lifting the sotten grief

Mad_dame nomadame

Madame nomad has many babies in arm. In arm they . And so. And then. And . Then. And . Then. And

and because because

cause causeway

______________________________ Was it Adam madame nomad. Are you nomad to cunning deed, or its freed. Come around yer inside rhyme. Not Knot bow and ribbon and fitted to recurrent obssession as it come 'back ' It'sback. Its Renoir.

Renoir's backs. It's that? Cursed your libido? youth?

cursed the cussed the ringing aft ~


Germane ...


jILL'S BRAIN afire and works the steady night. Her jewels feet sank the hardy star,and reft between blink and boom tear its fine disaster down. No word's kept her this long, its foxfeet running in every plate. No way to rummage the socks that rip down the d.d.t's and the raining murmur of wind's semester its high verse reverse song.
Jill's dream'a double duvet fancy four armed double breasted kiss _____________ Germane to all things was the right word. It fit the abstractest case.



This world's

This world's sheep baaah and baw-waw their bow to the end's daily suitable and with eyes shut. Not the orchards and lion and tiger the mountain cat

The river heard of something calling the animal to the front. its forepaws drifted to the front. Holding aloft the pendent cloud. Enriched by the Saturday sun. She sauntered over the plaza kissing breast belly and mouth . It work'd her ears and arms, and the darling napes. Of lovers, true ones.

Jill knows its still. Ness is the preparedness song for its freight .



Fret as song guitar as string word as leather barrier. Instant return the bog. The Euro Deli the ruin.A cross Ireland the fog. Rain thick as weeds rumble over head. And the lakes, parried by parks, rivers which speak, and the fain would call her its love the sun burnt. Paired by shoes and feet.




No she's knot. Its very happy. Three in one hanging round the park the trees are weird. She's spooky the river bank's mud the mist rising. It's nearly night knight get your . Across the bay clarinets one and she's pushed up. By the bed of grass and the skirt hiked over, its one her Franny. She's (come) over the wall the bridal chamber . Communism is a gift from the gods. She's sure she's got to share it. If there's a word that's spared her time it's because she's loving three and the heads synchronized turning loves her.

If it's a prose cinema it's because the two brass bed and the anthracite carry the night worry the hat purvey the heat . No one can get her disavowal .

fuck the wind

Prepare for touchdown my captain! the boat's capsized its overmooring knockers. Is the way this haggles her round stage distaff . Mona clickety-cock of the saunter her breasting straight as the flumed wave soughed over mouth. Three were the words cried the hammer night! night! and her lovers were very pray .

Come boy one and two and three. It's not Oedipus my love it's you you. Sock-eye Wall eyed Franny pulls her feet to the floor, its the wax, cant take the stang. She wears sheepish clothing in her schizophrenic apparel.

No one recurs the phrase like her.

She's like her.



Rescind the calm water. Marry its port. Jill's almost home touch down to the soft bed. The last thing she wants is the same old. And less of more and more of the other. Something's gotta give and it won't be her port.


mona's frame

Mona's frame is lair. Not so much the rocks confining it as the sewage gripping the hedge of its throat. A disgusting and vile odour merits the death of a fort? Could that be the da of her do and dont dada do? Her being stammers into choking

The lunatics don't know how to leave her alone, how to leave well enough alone. Especially when she's off the right 'track' and its boring rail and detail. If the detail is metaphor then shore is leave is absence and the cranial neck is poor .

Heartbreaking its fragment



Jill's manner of speaking is a manner of speaking. living is something for brook and water. not the latitude of paeans nor penance nor the red cent of her coughing wing. this is as it was in the cloud capped by reason. this was the fox rechasing its own tale of bucket and lime. Nor the fair reason of the training ground of thought, its impermeable lovers and the breath of catechisms nor the sore foot of wind, or the china cup of desire. Jill comes home finding her cameo gone train station pioneer to the rooftop. this way the fin of the porpoise knows its tender home. arranging 'clair' and

Above the rills

birds and cat leap ~



Over the roof, and the mansard __ ringing . Something about birds, and swans, and the dainty field of pleasure . Its air-borne ruffing

this way the c


Jill Mona Fanny's Franny

Round about shivers shudder a thing then take athing anything.Walk thing, sing thing. Foula Foula She said coming down the incline any merry eternity in her.

Jill never lived in the internet. she lived beside it a real Argonaut. She fleec'd her self hourly, stripping for the god,
transcending her means by half the time,
and less.
That way, she's a song a capital record. In Athens the gods lived at half time, tawdry demi-gods fucking over the rest of us. Institutional namby pambies and river becomings undid their hair.



Jill pauses to take her cake. she eats it too, trying on the socks of fashionable quartest and wearing beads, she's rushed to headquarters. Spycity baby she's lost in a marooned fantasm. A wind a sheet a burrow, a misplaced .... she pose and naked as the vase flower she's home to room in her self.

This way she whirls the sun into her feet. Mercury bound for gold and sun.


the paddler of white

The rain comes home.A sunken raveling bits and pieces her train tarried memory over Europe's belly. This was heard in the south song of her merit, the notorious weight auspicious to its white finger and the barbells of sunset, and the reedy fox roughed up by the passage of jerks felled the wishing city choked by its pants, and Eden at its pace the verb foreheaded with truth, and the breath cactus hurled its thought alongn the pinky-pinky alley, not sure of its hold on reality.... But reality is your friend now... the snow came along the window a cheeky visitor suffering from insomnia and the frail packing reminiscent of dubious gifts and Mona's cache filled up water overflattend the room swelling her choicest chin and . Franny rang the phone cutting her __ what's that? come over? Sleep with us, quickly.


round two


Little darling soften your truth. Veracity’s not your strong moon. Mona’s moon wants to wet the embankment __ near the river, she’s hocked everything possible. Others call it parallel parking she’d like to think of it as three in one. Odds are two to 100 she’s made it to the dregs of love. O love, what a bareback bully that is! Fanny come to your Franny, this will is mine, the very fact of it is toothsome. Yer handsome as a lane and tracking every god.Bless this yearning, bless this longing. Pine your heart away, this caught is god in its between ruth. Along the bible, she swerves momentarily glancing along its amorous clay. But she’s not Gulag lover, so she’s passing tickets on . Is this god your one? Not her, shes got her Astarte and because it’s a headstart she’s first in class, and last to cleave. Yes, Mona my fucklove your handsome elbows’ve

caught all our leaves.

Anti visits everyone who's at home.


round enough

Round this everything she hearkended for. Blessing soup and cabbage, to her Jacobins were capons, and the cutting machine markingthe terror! the error of its city street bleeding. Not the mens bodies and the women and the bread the stones sailing clear across the wall of the cobblestone. Verisimilitude was not her best shot. Okay lean out the lintel with your boobs blessed. She’s shaking the linen dry. Past most she has the air of wanting erudition. Becoming this way she’s the doubled begun lover. Covered in the skill of love’s lass.

__________________ She climbed over that strata with a fascination beyond bearing, hoping for all expecting the least. Then the world , or maybe the world keeps clear.
What does her noun expect her verb predicate.?



Sagacious as lillies? or lits. des lits d'bord? word cop/los/aht. shakes that wa'/y in her mouth. round thending paradigmatic automaticword . no coy. or . Mona shake head. Cauliflower, floral batting 'n her hair.....

She gotta secret. Inside her hairpin? Upspeak to her uplifted asscheek she want him to herher kiss it.
Since she's a mathematician she wants him to count. Count round her asscheek hefted to moonsigh. Its a dirty spot, but bared! with longings. Dirty is a word that . word that dirty. come around my dirty hands. i kissed. Mona grabbed back Fanny, Fanny's would side on Jack. Doubleenclaced round her arms wreathing round his

Melodie en sous-sol. Under their.. yes, its plural. Come thy .



Shes a savant wearing boxing short. Short, and tall. As any lanky . Bane. Not bane, but . Okay then. Say take Jill wears a clothes.

Barrowed stratafictation. A savant is an _ as in 18th c English. in the coffee house(s) . Add s. a consonant who's receipt's never done. Garner. Over field produce. Take time, caulking. Put her and his in her . Jill ‘s married to a thumbnail. Inside her. and then. some. and then. some. and then. It’s the weather vane. Confusing the clodhoppers. It’s the mist. And the confabulation of the false portrait. Fennel and root. Boot the claw

Jill has a speed gum, she’s wearing in her rosepetalled glove.


Marooned by backseats, she's chesty to the swashbuckled water, a league or two more,and she's homebound for more ferries.

The rain wills its peace. She's narrow to a bridge. And peace to bound.

Headress and her bonkers. One and a time she purcharged a book. Purchased a book. She was woman to her kind. Gilles became Jill. A gilly sort of thing, sexy as the onest of them awls. She's banned to her pate, and mate to her fate. what's this sword of copped smooth self. Is that Freud you're wearing? Come along she turn the semicolonnade upside down, she's Parthenon to her tomfoolery, hobgoblin to her matey.It's the high seas! and no telling where they'll end. On the rivers of Antartica! or Boliva, the faraway countries of the south and . And harmonica mouth

Fracas my dear it's yer favoured ... letter of the bell episteme to her jar of well used truth. Not a necklace but a spare bedroom. Something,okay, and the meaning of life? Well, go and ask your friend Aristotle.Claire is coming this afternoon, do you want to meet her?She's very keen on something you said last week. Oh yea? and then the pillar, and the gruesome island, the gull and the . And that it, no that,no it rose, the wind, the wind was rising, it was rising, and rising like any kind of horizon it was,
you might say
an epistemology of analogy and unsureness, upspeak to upass .



Hey bub, whats up? Shes gotta a plastic plate to serve him. And this servo mechanism 's no doubt its the best .

Your hands filter love Mister President. This way the metamodelization creating furrows reaches to other path.

Mona's heart becomes sky _____________ earth

________________Wind ___________________ Sky

_____the Sea______________________________

We'll hold the love of patient men and women holding the future of its hope. Practicing the red ring's ever growing enchantment. We call this Love: the collective love of all incoming becomings.


A stickler for love. Okay. Now take that combine the result with... you have the infinite summary of love!
becomings ebb flow jerk back / rush over the dock... where are the people rushing around this planet... hiding in hills deep in the jungle... ? Non, non Mona my love you are the collective spirit of human love multiplying your democratic dreams in each body every mouth speaking striving towards the future that is summoned and coming now to our door step. We are the lovers of mankind the brother of the planet __ the pulsing molecule Earth.



__________________ Mona continue her patch in the domain of the Other.

Someone by the name of. Foucault wanted to confine her. With the lepers and so on. They were bastards at that school university academic death to the wishes and wise of the people. The people, being a character, of such a character, run around naked swearing the 12 steps, the riot blankets of epistemological get togehthers creating a new format of subjectivity.
If you think that's bad well being a deconstructed savant is worse; it does not pay and people want to give you a guilt complex. So more and more younger folk are becoming actors of the worst sort and that rationalizes being dead. Wearing make-up and getting laid by strangers who dont give a shit, or a fuck. If you gotta a big ass, preferably shapely and supple to go, you get in. Bring your textbook too, and recite the Lord's pauper prayer with the other good boys and girls holding hand.

No matter what some say we are not capitalist assholes. Assholes are beautiful and capital is not.

Come to the hip hospital baby I will be your doctor. We are moved beyond grapes! and listing and grapefruit. O come Oye gatherers and gated cities we are barely hours from the crop!

_____________________________ The riding crop thinks Jilly andher billy-boots



This way

___________________________________________So they say! my mysteries. And buckled we'd
readied to dock ________________but the bamboozled ship went Blink!
That way shes string bean. Potateos and fries.

goats and satryrs

What s that tragedy and nimbling leaping apes? The gongoozla of death, the ape of apparently dying you King! O forsooth your buckets are brained with the leap! A bludger 'd do bette than this... recording the ridding string. O something all the way epic simile and passive retense. Complete with outsized dictionary to acquaintance herself with the mystery of fording rivers. Say a mongoose fleering you in the wood you camped at _____________She bivouacked the weird garden. Its garden not gadarene,a christian was preaching, seven women were breathing.

They took their clothes off. We went to them. We pray, O transcendental god,
be our Immanence . Kiss my shoogaloogas!

For every dealt theres a redealt . We play table cards both ways bettering our boobs on the counter.

Fanny say the capitalist stay as budgeable frozen food and nacreous feet. And say its the metonymy part of its wished for whole, the synecdoche of women's hand on his hasped ass. She wants to encircle his ass with her buttocks. Kissed the thing of unnameable love and deterritorialization. If its anecdotal its because she's iris fleec'd with her Messiah complex. Better than simplex schizophrenia and the other laden jagged patois of brain doctors.

The last minute hotel.

the wholesome parts

does a machine work ?partime me part of the time

the whole and its parts . the bride of part(ing[s])_____________shifting orderzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Mona hankers for rough pullovers and sweet walk.Along the bridal shore she's better than nothing but close to everything. Her reading is in-breeding and invoiced like any tricking suit. Alone ranger whips out her breast. Suck me! she cries in the plural of the possessive unity of embarked self. Come around here and come around her, and you two can see the three in one disunified bodiless.

At the meeting it's not a show, but she's bare necked lips, ready
for a whipping lashing

crowning the hour of her merging .


The episteme signs
sealed with a bliss ~.


Jill's feather.




alien is knot alien_nation and ratio cination concatenation. O ration You patient cunt! You reverse simple. this fay is busted chiaroscuro on the cock's christ _ 1962_ slightly too young as walked with __ rose the street of Bohemia poetry cellar __ laterly finger clapped then riding with the 1967 _ long hair your ass cutting the wind, as a shive does, and a shriving too, you cutslut ratedback to the rational butt.

the only censer is the censoring of the lamp. At Hotel A, the blare gives light its rough page. Of these deconsruing has its best latitude.

Mose(S) you imbecile is the commanding officer of the dragqueen unit . Inword he was bearded as any piss artist was, a geology of the tramps. And on the counterpanes, his cock-a-doodle-doo!

Hugger-Mugger I love thee.

Come to your ass.

Come to it relatch the paingrasp of your love glove.

The darling pinups
and come around us
surrounding bodies
add our love potion ~ .


Shivers up her asshole spine. Any fuck you slup. Slobconscious to the spoookey. ness of your slop. call it the 'hardassed hedgewhore. language as the tobaggon soup of a deadening godeye o you intrinsicself slaver your pate before getting out of breakfast|Can you hear the getting off skirt, before the war begins. Booom! Boom! Boomb! it comes rattling down a chambering implosion to the bomgbomb on the skirts of town. A little switch to the west, we have whipping dog, and burialed mounds of motherfuckers time. A Switch east to the broomstick of the jolly joyrider of time, whoremasters pay complete, her skirt's off now, a violin picks her underthings off what they call it? Shit? Is that it? Shit! O Shit! O Shit. Shit. And then it unearths the folly of joy and the condemning rature raptures of heat, and the beatstring ass. Jewel buckets up her arse, she says, lickit. Haberdasheries ass we have a code 9 here, and the erotic shits filled with wheat. Down the elbow its microdot incorporated and the degenerate detective novel in plain pieces. folk like it that, especially nazi ones. You dragoon you!


parting ruffling

If parting is ruffling she's shoulder to shoulder with the wind, clouting it back to its determined flux, honking along with the geese heading south ____ the borders know no home to wank her spell and tankards of fuel ___________keep her going at night. Hogshead willow and the bankers talk back, the bakers true. THe rich man and woman slack as detergent know nothing of the real, and the reel to reel colour of the swamp, the marsh, the working dime, the working woman in her prime gazette of feel.

Is she a gazelle in bed?

If so it's due to the weight her bed carries, boarders know this truth best, better than truth serum, is love's kick, its licekty-split dum-dum bell and the dumb waiter draws forth water.

That way it was. It's not as it should have hurried to the riveted sunk of its song, the plinth burying the thing,

and the boat savoring the night, the beauty savoring the equal night.

Deterritories make a pillow for love

Chinese style and the buses are full. Fallow lovers peer trombone wise to the west.


we prefer

We'd prefer closed off writing that enters its own'd domains not the two faced hypocritical_ apocryphalness of L's face yer accountable too. too shitty _too shitty to believe that idea only to the one... is not two but double double trouble! ____________O hell says Mona ~ _______Jumping around her socks

________________ Naturally her sockboots are libidinous! she s twisted her knees coy style, Its way more provocative that way to his big bigger bigger big big big biggest Member. It reachs up Like Tow truck to Tuck Her Up into his Single eyed Phallus Fuck|She suggest the vintage, and in bed shes erotic vintage biting snapping and other dirty worrdddddddddddds. What s that thigh doing there, and her ass sticking up. Her brass breast is best sucked by Franny, Jill comes a tree, garden of Eden special. She s rhizomatic to her asshole. _________________ Jacky has clandestine wishes, spank me! bad boy! take my ass ! Make me sometjhing besides the little tall wolf alone with a pack,a h! I 'm a mere wolverine beside your love.

this way step right down

In the library or brothel she grabs his cd. Holds it tihgt, a corkscew to her cunting. THis way the land of transcendent fuck disappears to the real sweaty onee of tears. Twisted by things like this, it can't be seen she's love glamour or paramour, but a paladin's the horse she rides, her ostler's a glove maker in his spare time glancing at woman between the thighs of buttocks. What lover is this crumbling down the masonry stairway?

Over the afternoon she has bearings bringing her back, it's neither here nor there, but she works. The avenue's catchy in its breathiness and lust ridden in its commonplaceness.

For the young woman's love ... she's given everything...


Jill's fforgoten the word, its the crayon park
and the fawn teardrops pink as any ray on sunset. Her mauve pastime is peppered with salt and corneded hoovers, double doubts and mixed blessings. Thank goodness for the things she don't have, hmmm hustles the hirsute folly of the 19th century reflective wind.

Dont bat an eye ! speaking to the crowd
Like a herd of buffalo, stattionary movement,
immaence as the folk love to live.

___________________________________ Switch your route tinker with the kind route, the bear capsizing the routine structures ....


LillIput in


Lilliput in the land of the molecule. That's how she travelled . Yarn and yarn rounrain. Hopped into your hair

(to) make love.

Like any baker's boy This summarizes thought. Its new patch, the fortune telling cookie of rain, and beach houses, or salesladies,a nd cableman. between the strata, the plateau? Is the feeling you get Mona, when you dehydrate the marked spot of any feigning tower.

Sheesh greed's come many ways. sa Zone to toe. Inside your neck, her mouth bent to your hotflower sexy roomy long inside there. shes watche, caught. Subdued. Thus Jill loves thee

Three equals one you, around the river of your thigh, and the garter tucked away in the feather of your forlorn, and the falcon and the whipneck and the Belmont park ride, the panther, something like these was Jill's giving ambition
You might call them, her biting buttocks!
O how the trouble we