goober spoon noodle dingbat nimcumpoop spoonerism xiola trope bean whatchamacallit loon yoohoo yahoo broo-ha-ha <not eric>when you are oldand grey and full of sleep and nodding by the fire take down this book and slowly read of the soft look your eyes had once****yum peachfuzz and everythig soft breathing and the silent e at the end of breath that makes the sighing in of soft squeesh glad sun and what it is comes over eyes like big love crumbs all limbs whichintertwine as if grown together rootlike with as much history as this silly word: moment. plenty whatever happened to the really good good and plenty only good and fruity/ies which had red licorice in the middle, not jellolike pseudosweetdare i say it CRAP? and what is art, anyway. being fourteen. that's what i think and i'm not even molly bloom. but who is? nymphs or the y2k? personne sais saucisson...euh..euh..psfssshft. moi--je pense que...euh...donc..euh. derrida. ha. la fin du monde is probably the best quebecois beer you'll ever taste at eighteen and i say whistle that yell that spell that out big'bigger than the exprince ofwhosits diving into a whatsits to save mis probably nobody's handbag because get me kid Iinzie) you
don't understand me, man.
and i know that's true
lame spectacular vernacular all written/stolen/exemplified but not necessarily spelled or understood by Jewel. cause hey. only kindness and my shoe size matters. dig? </not eric>