With a glob of soot's high degree of accuracy,
male pattern baldness settles in guano.
But the contours of the speed of light are sinful – Kung Fu emissions
like those of The Last Dragon's squatting in his little terrarium
atop the old lady's mantlepiece. His acute demonstration, the
next moment, of the interchangeability of a cheerful morning person
and a flamethrower. A versatile wind-up toy, lewd like the animatronic nun
in the romance novel. Yeah it's misty, yeah it's steamy, and the
facial recognition software recognizes all faces
at the health spa as those belonging to Jar Jar Binks.