“Can’t you write something your grandmother could read?”
Mother West Coast, a home—a stately Cape Cod house. BABY—what, exactly am I missing?
rubescent lips…(Psilocybin soaked sex?)
East Coast met That Boho—yes?
No love lost.
Think of BABY, first.
And the Windex?
Just confess. The Tarzan Lover. The cost.
Tarzan melts your sheets?
The Jones. Relapse. Fix. Nothing finer—
he’s firm, Golden, a warrior?
And spouse exits, next—when?
Well done Happy Housewife. (Pretty Liar).
Coast is clear
And you are Fire.