I just found this wanted ad in a victorian novel that I wrote in Brooklyn 6 months back or more.
Complicated Kate seeks warm, mustachioed man to accompany her to bed of stars and sea grass where we will mull over cardboard party hats and cheese synthesis, looking for a good time via Facebook and someone to blog about , handlebars wanted, please no smokers.
In the same novel, there is this poem:
You whispered softly in whiskey stained tears that your cheeks ran with and you bit on the flaky cracker and the crumbs fell like snow drops onto your lanky beard and only because I love you so much, only because when I was down by the murky waters when you came up behind meto brush my face with lilacs and thistles only then do I come up to you so lovingly and coddle those cracker bits with my lips and tell you that you are fine and that no one could be lovelier than you are when you are staring at the kidney streaked patch works of american sunsets, no one could waltz with the presidentes and corral the caballos, not like you.
titled: Love Letter to Walt Whitman part 2
Part 1 is sneaking around in my room somewhere, to be sure.