There's a place for polyester
I read about the avant garde but I don't want a label that sounds like a polyester pantsuit. Heat is too easily trapped in a writer. That's why we bite our lips and tongues, making holes for breathing. If you want warmth, stare at the sun- keep reading her ethereal sighs; I'll prepare a Victorian fainting couch for you both. Pocket a fan - just in case, as the teller told me curls could heat to 1300 degrees. Oh, middle-aged illumination! Skip over my words, odd over even, and maybe you'll get the message that I love you, truly, though I will never ever tell you. It's warm enough without reinforced seams.














