The Countess trailed the scent of a poker game
beside her bed of coral she knelt
and opened her sachet to unfurl
airy musings
meandering monologues and
words taken from dead poets
Her plan was schematically arid
her hyper falsetto
an undulating escalator
I glanced askance
the funhouse mirror showed
all legs and soul
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2 comments:
You have to ask yourself, "what would Shatner do?"
I never know the answer to that question.
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