How now, chow-hounds. Here’s a splendid
kitchenette over- grown w/ innuendo. You and I, chuckle and
futz, JK and touché. Like pronoun poutine: we’re a wonder of
correspondent squishes. Dueling dishes. The tone switches willy-nilly, room to room, a little touching then much-too-much, poopy shmoopy then
pie-in-the-sky. I’m feeling upholstered and swollen w/ luminous bits, bites
of “light verse.” She's alliterating vees, cycling-bi, her heart a bajillion kerblooms!
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