A bucket full. of rain. and other sore ankles. bear the cost.
stipend of stupid machine. the word machine as self goes back to hamlet
as is what was that other thing, celibate machine brilliant!
Now her head's near rain. A perished model to the hearing of sun, well let it be done.It's
no worse hither .
her head's bucket? come along then. A diary farm. A dainty airAnd She? She's thinking of his thing, big as it is, inside of her, Woof! Woof! and she'd like to ride its solemn oath. If this is the memoir of a turf surfer she'd rough his back pairing his feet, her thighs clamped his waist midriff to her gulping belly.
Posted by C Duffy at 2/21/2012