That old Jeffie, that old Jeffie time love.
Don and Jeffie were of the boroughs, the hoolihan ghoul of plexus and follow, both were loaded both of the burrows, the burrows yeeeehaaawwwing, srping tippling, bring a bow, Scrudge,
Heck, Ghislaine wasn’t from NYC, or any borough, nor ridden a burrow, nor a donkey, a donkey dick, give it a click, on palm planned economy right shoulder, though older.
A hesitant, riding on a palm, the donkey braying, as if a JFK NYC song, the heat of night, frizz, lightning bug light up the sky, bring back, bring back, sweet Julius of Orange, Orang Clit, split but don’t pocket no wooden, no buffalo,
Crucify? I think not, remembering Ghislaine, doing stenography, even wearing horn rimmed glasses, dear friend Alex, Jones that is, ripped from a rip tide, in the nude, Donald come in, wet from the back of Henry Hudson, swimming “free” “style” and along comes a tub, or is it a tug, or is it a “free” “throw”
Spam of Human Affection 
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