bonafide peachumpidgeonlover, eh, eh, eh, eh, esquire earwugs, escusado, of Jenkins’ Area, with his sinister Cyclopes after trigamies and spirals’ wobbles pursuiting their rovinghamil- ton selves and godolphing in fairlove to see figuratleavely the whome of your turn, my Moonster firefly, like always. And lilting on all my examhoops. And what wonder with the daynurse doing Chaperon Mall. Bright pigeons all over me that when we were always one of romance’s fade- less wonderwomen, and, sure now, we all would fain make glories. It is possible to outline a list