I think I’m falling in love.
My heart is a Toyota and
I’m drinking a mocha. He’s
melting Michael Palmer this
afternoon and staying with
me tonight. What a romantic
red flag! Dear gaze, he says
he knows who you are, yet
despite robust nudgings you
’ve never met. Like Janet
Jackson’s boob nor is my
brain here (you’re so very
wong). Oh monumental,
I’ve fallen into such a
Frank.
