Whatever happened in the world was a decree from God. A task to be completed. Any crying or joy just got in the way of being useful. Any emotion was decadent. Anticipation or regret was a silly extra. A luxury.

“You can't kiss someone who has no lips. Oh love me, love me, love me, love me, …”

“Your heart is my piñata.”

“The pinup girl, Betty Grable, sprayed her bare butt and breasts with hairspray …”

“I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping…”