Beshrew me not, Miss Oglethorpe,

Over there

I am all pent in my coffee shop chair

With dandruff and In gaolI

Like a state hospital straitjacket


Thrice threefold I looked at thee

Ten feet from thine fine steel Elizabethan bosoms

Bail me not, then, sweet mademoiselle,

For I would bring thee chocolate covered raisins to prove my

Roman Catholic Pope Paul and Pope Gregory and Pope Pius III fidelity,

Though frail, to you

While considering as if a $100,000,000

Sitting-on-his-tush-all-day psychiatrist

my zealous desperation

Which some would call lewd

And unpatriotic

4 thoughts on “#333

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