And here are a few ladies. My Friend.
"On the kitchen table rested the telephone.
I called my girlfriend, Mabel.
Oh, I was not alone.
I matched her for the vacuous phrase and for the belly groan.
How have the days beginning, a girl can feel despair,
the jars of night cream won't erase, nor rinsing of her hair.
Left with the butts of cigarettes
and the mirrors' dirty stare.
And so it is with Mabel, and so it is with me.
We sucker each the other for strength of sympathy.
A corset for existence stays the will to be."