what her mouth thinks of (if it were a kiss distinct entirely melting sinuous lean . . . whereof this lady in some book had read II. MAME she puts down the handmirror. “Look at” arranging before me a mellifluous idiot grin (with what was nose upwrinkled into nothing earthly, while the slippery eyes drown in surging flesh). A thumblike index down- dragging yanks back skin “see” (i, seeing, ceased to breathe). The plump left fist opening “wisdom.” Flicker of gold. “Yep. No gas. Flynn” the words drizzle untidily from released cheeks “I’ll tell duh woild; some noive all right. Aint much on looks but how dat baby ached.” and when i timidly hinted “novocaine?” the eyes outstart, curl, bloat, are newly baked and swaggering cookies of indignant light III. GERT joggle i think will do it although the glad monosyllable jounce possibly can tell better how the balloons move (as her ghost lurks, a Beau Brummel sticking in its three- cornered always moist mouth)--jazz, for whose twitching lips, between you and me almost succeeds while toddle rings the bell. But if her tall corpsecoloured body seat itself (with the uncouth habitual dull jerk at garters) there’s no sharpest neat word for the thing. Her voice? gruesome:a trull leaps from the lungs “gimme uh swell fite like up ter yknow, Rektuz, Toysday nite; where uh guy gets gayn troze uh lobstersalad IV. MARJ “life? Listen” the feline she with radishred legs said (crossing them slowly)“I’m asleep. Yep. Youse is asleep kid and everybody is.” And i hazarded “god” (blushing slightly)--“O damn ginks like dis Gawd” opening slowlyslowly them--then carefully the rolypoly voice squatting on a mountain of gum did something like a whisper, “even her.” “The Madam?” I emitted; vaguely watching that mountainous worthy in the fragile act of doing her eyebrows.--Marj’s laughter smacked me: pummeling the curtains, drooped to a purr . . . i left her permanently smiling V. FRAN should i entirely ask of god why on the alert neck of this brittle whore delicately wobbles an improbably distinct face, and how these wooden big two feet conclude happeningly the unfirm drooping bloated calves i would receive the answer more or less deserved, Young fellow go in peace. which i do, being as Dick Mid once noted lifting a Green River (here’s to youse) “a bloke wot’s well behaved” . . . and always try to not wonder how let’s say elation causes the bent eyes thickly to protrude-- or why her tiniest whispered invitation is like a clock striking in a dark house II POEM, OR BEAUTY HURTS MR. VINAL take it from me kiddo believe me my country, ’tis of