Marmalade and Lace

by Melissa Torkens

August 19, 2002

Marmalade and lace,
I step on your face
as you draw back your bow.
Where's the arrow? I don't know.

These lovers' games without namesâ€¦
or at least maybe they should be.
"Drunken Pump" robs my dignity,
couldn't we call it "Double Indemnity"?

You Probe me with your Ford
while I hum My Sweet Lord
and your Contours I memorize.
My good name you blasphemise!

We meet in the 'twain
like orchids in the rain,
the drops of which are nearly heard
over the blaring Lynard Skynard.

As you plunge deep into my soul,
in your passion you try the wrong hole.
Will your roguish fingers probe my labia?
Don't be silly, you know what's a labia.
Our souls have spanned all time to be together
and in their unity we will last past forever.
In your ear I gasp to catch breath,
and uhâ€¦ sure, I guess you can call me Beth..

The stars whisper tonight we will be as one
because I see now that Friends is a re-run.
Your love is too rich to regretâ€¦
twenty seconds I will never forget.

Milestones

1961: Cuban immigrant Lazlo Homales buries a small change purse in a remote section of upstate New York. Over 40 years later, commune reporter Ivan Nacutchacokov finds the purse with a metal detector, andâ€”what the crap, two dollars?? Lousy poor immigrants!

Now Hiring

Hall Monitor. Duties include asking to see hall passes, looking like an authority figure and keeping the unpopular commune staff members out of the staff lounge. Good grades a plus.

Top Ways to Leave Your Lover

1.	Join Al-Qaeda
2.	Quit Al-Qaeda
3.	Mail self to Shanghai (unless from Shanghai)
4.	Singing Dump-o-Gram
5.	Blaze of Glory/Blaze of Lies

My New Lifestyle
Monday, August 5, 2002 If I could ever be as free as a tree, I'd pee only Brie. My neighbors would see the beauty of me. I'd sing like a duck and have all the good luck. I'd dance for a buck and sleep in a truck I bought for a buck ... (8/5/02)

State of the Union Jack
Random parables are wearable surf sluts speak of Sarin gas like a bubble from Hitler's ass America's flying at half-mast Conspirators eat beer and s'mores while Dutch elves poison naked bears nobody cares what the emperor wears as long... (7/22/02)

Your Honor
A little dog choked on a draidel, a ladle, a can of beef stew and a wicker kazoo. His owner, a loner from Kalamazoo, in a wrath drew a bath that he filled up with glue. The soup of white goop he stirred with an oar and what's more he added the... (7/8/02)