by Brian McCloskey
My iguana is so shiny. And occasionally pushing aside a breast to scratch my knee. You and I collapsed in love. A woman with beautiful eyes smiled at me today. Imagine - your own flower. I put a Norwegian in the boiler room. She glides by upon a bank of violets. Could you live with those ears? It’s like having a pine tree in your toilet. The story of my life is a search for love. The bicycle does not collapse. I seem to have ripped my trousers. But how many fancy Brian? Turn the resulting sausage inside out to hide the stitching. I like a pair of woman’s breasts as much as the next man. I think he just had a girlfriend called Mandy. Earlier on I had a horse up my sleeve. That’s why his cows look so scared. The feathers were still attached to the duck. He’s scared of spending his life alone - no girlfriends. Or understand her at all. All things are wearisome. You must have dialled the wrong number because no-one ever calls me on purpose. And at that first kiss, his lost heart found peace. A twisted simulacrum of a celebration. This is how we know what love is. Furtive voyeurism and the first hesitant steps towards romance. I am actually quite shy, but I had to get her attention. Girls have destroyed my feelings and left me with no confidence. Come together under a benevolent cheese.