Let us go then, you and I,More, much more, at the link.
Where my leer is sprawled out upon the thigh
Of the lefty chick that waits upon my table;
Let me binge, in certain half-deserted streets,
With friends with pointed sheets
Through restless nights in Internet tirades
And sawed-off guys in chicken-hawk brigades:
Guys that swallow all my tedious arguments
Pusillanimous stray vents
That prompt in sane folk moral indigestion …
Oh, do not ask my meaning!
Let me get on with my preening.