Honey, I Plan To Marry You The

The Sky The Sky- Same As It Always Was.

I'm Afraid To Breathe In Case I Break The Spell

I Stare At Her For A Long Moment. I Want To Kiss Her. I Want To Kiss Her More Than I've Ever Wanted Anything In My Life.

Sometimes I Think That If I Had To Choose Between An Ear Of Corn Or Making Love To A Woman, I'd Choose The Corn. Not That I Wouldn't Love To Have A Final Roll In The Hay - I Am A Man Yet, And Something Never Die - But The Thought Of Those Sweet Kernels Bursting Between My Teeth Sure Sets My Mouth To Watering. It's Fantasy, I Know That. Neither Will Happen. I Just Like To Weight The Options, As Though I Were Standing In Front Of Solomon: A Final Roll In The Hay Or An Ear Of Corn. What A Wonderful Dilemma. Sometimes I Substitute An Apple For The Corn.

I Hate This Bizarre Policy Of Protective Exclusion, Because It Effectively Writes Me Off The Page.