Dear Postmodern Girlfriend
by Joseph Spece | Mon Jan 16 2012
What a lovely
bunch of
French
terms.
What names.
What attic
simulacra, what
vapid lilt.
The knowing
jests, the Bloom
shibboleths,
such admirable
length
of neck.
Listen, sweet:
even a whole
welter of
enthusiasms
isn’t enough
to get this
thing
off the ground.
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