And there was Too for Whoo

There were wanted and needed or had
Maybe listed if thought of and said

I do not write a letter to Santa or you --I write letters to authors and Sinatras
make cookies with fruit and ginger to give to Fruits and Ginger.

Anyone'll fuck a baker.
Star Fuckers will fuck a Maker.

Someone once told me that.
Once, someone told her that I had made it with whoo.
Quippy conversation, we were protean,
one missed meeting and a Lesbian drew conclusions without cunctation or substantiation.

Molly will not climb on les genoux de santa.
No chuchotement of parfume or laughter.
I won't even have to désir un visage je sais ou un scarecrow brain.

I am only do do do doing and
no wish no want no lists no Ella Fitzgerald singing haunted hearts into iPods.