Yes, my attentive friends, Millicent went
quite and suddenly nuts, she cracked up
on a windy night high flying in a wet red
airborne tent,
while earthbound Alfred of a misspent
desultory middle age, sky gazed paced
sweated salt streams of repressed rage.
Yet, all along he feared his darling betrothed,
sweet distracted bewigged Hortense, the
pudding cream of prudish has beens,
had not in truth paid one Honest Abe dead
head cent (or flimsy farthing for that matter)
towards their fucking late inflated rent.
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