Dear Valdosta Glam Company,
I am writing to thank you for the response response in a poem form & my free Bag for Radicals!-—Valdosta Radicals—like nobody but the locked-up victims of felony selling of suitcases. For him, she sold bond bonds, was trafficking in actions dubious, services extra-ordinary—boring, really, according to said pimp, said you. It’s a freak felony already. Most victims consider Valdosta Glam the where, not the response in every hawrt that lobs throbs around the bases warming up for the seventh Seven.
He yodels as if the real Penny might lock him, full-nelson. Wise was she when arrested by a slim narcotic-enlightened radical ripe in the sand. O delight in the dry dry sand & all praise-by-astonishment & other covetous beliefs in all the world, the true people resigned joyfully to every miracle promised by our son & the white uncle unclean.
You the sign of hearts, sweet Val, Valdosta Glam. Besides and foretold, you sing of cicadas, taxes, wigs, cars, carts, cups, and good cheap April ahead! With you mouths thick as night where you faces appear: the wiry grins, the &-there-are-no-rules-for-what-happens-next kind of thing.
Yeah, she knows what happened to the guy. He got work, five-an-hour gigs, drooping and heartsaucy, his eyelids figure-eight straight to the news ahead.
He telephones the fatigue,
& the world.
So thank you again Valdosta Glam Company,
we remains love yours & truly
Courtesy of Patrick Santos-Dumont