Pam Bondi Daffy Drafted

I love Pam Bondi. I love her as much as I love Ghislaine Maxwell. I love Donald Trump for giving Ghislaine Maxwell the benefit of the doubt, time to grieve, get some clarity, and move on. A J.Eppie MoveOn.org orgone orgasma love for all moving souls.

Ghislaine, in love, drafted Donald, in love, drafted Pam, in love. It’s all documented in the draft cards, credit cards, love cards — all arcadian cards burning. Soul on Ice, burning.

Pam is a babe.

She’s worn the bikini. She’s studied law, and– I’m speculating here– studied in bikini. See me, I see her, seen the Chipawa, in Chickasaw, in chic filet Chickasaw. And in Miami, meaning, better pronounced and announced,

“Myaamia” (Mee-ah-mee-ah) or “My-am-uh,”

Miami, Ohio, young Tecumseh, half-naked savage, studied the law, of the land,

She’s blonde, petite, knows the parry, the pause between spaces, an old mannish bwa, skinking, praises, a reflecting pond, parsing Florida, meaning flower, meaning Busch garden, meaning Gentle Ben, meaning Flipper, on a bender, aware of a Waring Blender, a margin note, a free float, a horse, a manatee, a gentle reminder,

A DOJ in disarray, as Trump, a thin reminder. Putting into space, Cape Canaveral, interspaced, I think of Pam, in Spring Training, straining, loving life, a “ball” player, Trump eschewing rump, remembers the thunder of American dream, where it can be played out, without doubt, at zero expense, a sandlot, Virginia Beach, ringlet, rough it, relax, glove it, Trump’s face replacing the Statue of Liberty, that babe wearing a bikini, not a bra, her light shining bright, Pam Bondi chaste,

Balancing work ethic with love and time in bed, spam with a pimento, now we have laptops and solar energy, down to the beach, In spam-pam we trust, Jack and Jackie Kennedy, above.