June 25, 2001

Amerigo, Amejigo, Amexico

Blew a tire this morning. Blew a tire. Blue a tire. Blue a tire. Blue attire. Blew attire. Blue attire this morning. Blue dockers, blue suede shoes, navy socks, marine mariner's cap, jaunty pipe, eyes cocked at a passing lass, blue tattoo: of anchor. Bought my dockers at the Docks; blew my pipe at seagull flocks; bought my socks at cents apiece; paid for blow from fatman's niece. Snorted blow, set out to sea; windward laylard laid a lee; swung to starboard, snossed the snocks; rebowed the toil through nowling lochs. Celebrated nautically; blew my boy and he blows me. Let the lemon course my chest, the stream to lick; to fondle, zest, Pectorals at their brazen best, and sprit waysporting south-south-west. While shaving, blade glints in my eye, Through mirrored doorway, I tears bespy.

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