Wednesday, February 4, 2009

She laughs at my dreams, but I dream about her laughter.

Laughter - a sweet, helpless laughter - welled up inside me,
uncertain at first, and then increasing logarithmically,
like the passion within the breasts of a tender young virgin
chained to a post in the Coliseum as the baboon trainer approaches
her with his lascivious charges.

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