“I'm eighteen years behind in my ironing. There's no use doing it now, it doesn't fit anybody I know.†— PHYLLIS DILLER
So, Let it go. Let it snow. All you know are highfalutin’ types — Spinning atop a head (hand?) master's pen, Ushering each LIGHT-SHOT day in Through a second-story window. Lettersnow knows the clothes fit. The second-story window overlooks Divinity AVENUE, In one fashion or another. Iron what? Anyone know? My clothes hang with the Stars from Mars, Destination choice But clear those dust devils, Vacuum the rug !
