Aren’tya whosis the space compadre whose plane did

Send morse code send aprons from send yer bride?

By all heavy or horses that won’t be ridden, verily, di’nt

Poor Uncle Frederique help ya out vey back ven?

A comet or two angled at your chest but

One engine rocket with cable, placemats a long mellow endurance journey

Burned in the blue crystal of morning,

Swiftly arrived to save your Russian space station ass, loins and in-betweens!

All Molly and Me might appreciate is a ballsy once-around in the tail-fin of your car.

Do turbulences enrich your intellect?

In a parallel delirium

Am I my good sir you, each of us swimming in the others’ coat?

Does we our furies forward each other our mail but not our collection of moon rocks?

Where is this paradise that we the pair of us deem it to dream of our mirrors and fire the ignitor rockets?