weighed haiti, hairied on his mind... threshing about and trashing yotes thralled and trash gated; the plied-for lung-belle made no difference that night: he had gapes for any gall that would come clovering on over, dove-touching his teak with their cherry poppers and poignant elbows play-dated... I mean, shore and sures ensured, there were moons colored for this? Old octo-pad, a burr and tuber, perry wrought, splice implied, napes on the run with fingers on the tailpiece, definitely defined and denial no longer your ape-salmon mirth, taint nothing but a nice night for a frisk and a cop (funny how policing and women go toe and neck).