as Paul Anka licked those white cubes
from between her dainty toes, I
knew it was too late for me so I flew
into the nearest more or less wood to
let my momentum slow to sap and
all those fictional women of
my graphic novel past were just
as complicated as needed
and as whatever else and, less
but I hear like is drawn to like
or the other way around I
know I should just go out and play
apart from now there is no other day
but this urge to heap mountain on mountain