We find creaks in the floor, dirty dishes just so you can wash, and I can dry. Don’t need blankets, we set the sheets on fire. Light the night with animal eyes. Chain the door and polish the tiles. We drive
like spacemen, expose virgin film, tar and feather the poor, poor cats. We give concerts; I play the typewriter and you
snore in harmony. I brush my teeth with dandruff shampoo, you hand feed the goldfish. I dance to songs that make you cry. You only respond when I call you Wolfy. We should retire and become ghosts.
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