She writes books she writes poetry she writes novels she writes stories she writes love letters. She doesn’t wear panties. She drinks beer. She wears a lot of black. She does not smile. She’s got dangerous hair. She’s got ten toes. She’s got two elbows. She writes books she reads books she’s pretty fucking serious about books she signs books she sends books in the snail mail she sends books as love letters she sends sends. She publishes Instant Pussy when she feels like it she draws herself naked but not very well no she’s no R. Crumb but she endeavors she tries she auditions she dances. She is not famous or even notorious she is no Anne Sexton she is no Valerie Solanas but she writes she reads she scrawls her scream is industrious with lipstick and cologne and love baby love. She gives good love. She gives unto death. There is water there are waves and onto those she doth cast endless bread crumbs like the world is her own bakery. She is a bakery. She is forever baking. There are cupcakes there are donuts there is so much frosting to lick and smear oh smack those lips oh suck those fingers yeah baby like that baby you never had it so good.