04-01-2022, 10:41 AM
The Coy Song of J. Alden Purfrock (Ms.)
Men speak then of weather without pity
Disarmed by torrents, gelding concrete city
Exhausting filth, their peckers tuckered–
But Aprils in my rooms, men’s trousers rolled-up
At rest in spoonful sunlight on my fold-up
Delight my heart with swains I’ve suckered.
Men speak then of weather without pity
Disarmed by torrents, gelding concrete city
Exhausting filth, their peckers tuckered–
But Aprils in my rooms, men’s trousers rolled-up
At rest in spoonful sunlight on my fold-up
Delight my heart with swains I’ve suckered.
Non-practicing atheist