If you’re the wind or I’m in need and you won’t get off the pay phone

So rock climbers a rock climber goes to sea. And he brings a bar of black soap for trouble. This is troubling

Add four rolls to each cookie sheet at sea and the captain breaks his rolls traditionally in threes at the captain’s table.

The ship pitched frequently and I was sea sick. Those who could vomit often in anonymity gathered at the rail speaking only first names

She revealed her place of employment: an error. Monocled or spectacled or looking through a periscope

The rock climbers guffaw creamily. Smoothly. Are you still

The wind? A vague attempt to rob me on your part you are an heiress and an anthropologist so I am confused.

Please explain. You are about to yell standing up jumping up suddenly

And you drill sergeant, etc. You are about to have sauce on your shirt

As is appropriate with pasta habitués. Your mouth is smeared with sauce. Only naturally

My stomach is empty and growl-y Hurrah hurrah for Samson’s plaid pants. Spikes in shoes

Cowgirl, you leave me alone for New Jersey. Easy to call me, you call me

But we’re cheaters. We dance in an Italian restaurant so hiding and Hoboken—nobody knows us here. I speak into the telephone

Are you booming overhead thunderclaps and gusts and gales and howls and go whipping through the trees.