If there were a reflected self of the antichthon, I might offer it awe, but certainly not jealousy—for only here can I love each breeze and wave that brushes the roots of my fantastic reality.

Last semester buried in redology left both our hearts split and sore, so let true fortune be found here, in Paris, embraced with selves to adore.

Coati wears no coat—just a light jacket of fur—for there is no fear in coati of a connixation of a situation through which coati would need to thusly endure.

Strewn sheets supplement sleep sacks set in sun, setting a scenographic space for swevens’ slumbering, if not snoring, souls.

Neither will peacock’s palpebra blink nor will its tail feathers unshrink until peahen agrees to never again wink at the standee of the sea set in pink. ; )