Hullo, Polly, my love, can you hear the dumb goose-hiss of the wives as they huddle and peck or flounce at a Thomas waddle away? Who cuddled you when? Which of their gandering hubbies moaned in Milk Wood for your naughty mothering arms and body like a wardrobe, love?
There it stands, with a toss of curls and a flounce of skirts, a Carmen among the cities. the last of the Middle Eastern fleshpots. a junction of intrigue and speculation .
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