Nov 10 2009 12:48 am
Oh Sara, I stand atop your magnificent beak betwixt your almond eyes. My gaze slides down over the precipice of your thin upper projection and lands easily with a soft, wet smacking sound upon your full, rich, bottom lip. I’d bite it off, I swear to god I would, and chew it up because I am in love woman, in deep, true love.
Sure, there was Feist. Regina Spektor. But none of them compare. Not one of them compares to you.
I’m heading to Michigan, Sara, to catch you a beautiful steelhead. I will bring you the cold, firm steel flesh. And perhaps a new world record brown trout. And a mini keg of Two Hearted.
Until then, with love and unabiding infatuation, yours truly.