Sweethearts

Myrrh ironed to get by, ate pastry non-stop, pressed crumbs
and collars, mooned of hardluck Hon, lent him money, 
unpinned her bosom for sweaty bills: will you come by tonight, 
hon, I'm horny.

Yeah, Myrrh, get us a 6-pak.

Hon late, Myrrh popped and sipped, tube surfed, munched 
popcorn, chips, 3-beans, low-cal yogurt, lite tacos, burped,
farted, zit- and nose-picked, dozed and wallowed, deep
slept half off the sofa, pubes abare chenille.

Dreamed of Hon driving her in a top-down Caddy, 90 per
out west, endless highway, aiming for Reno, the Marriage
Chapel. Him and her lovestruck, tan, thin, rich, magical pair 
wedding cake figures.

They wed, kissed, swooned into the frosting, made snow
angels, fed each other giant white wads of sweets. More
mouthfuls, then more, they swelled and sank deeper into the
mound of froth, dug into the layers for veins of chocolate, 
mined ore, consumed it, became heavier, burrowed eyeless 
moles, insatiable tapeworms passing cake.

Diet-free Joy groaned and heaved and gulped, tongue lapping, 
arms aswim, legs ascissor. Bareass Cecil videoing, fired a 
burst of ready-whip on her mons, cast sprinkles, shook his bud,
mouth-squirted an arc, panned the scene, zoomed the cam, 
zoomed his head, lapped the split, couldn't wait, inlaid chiquita.

Quarter ton athrash, half asleep, half drunk, loveblind and 
sweetness.

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Date: Sat, 05 Jul 1997 21:13:27 -0400
To: wire@monkey-boy.com
From: John Young <jya@pipeline.com>