Have we considered that Shakespeare’s sonnet “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” was written for a winter’s day? It depends what one calls lovely and what kind of temperament you woke up hoping for. (For which you came up hoping.) I’d like to have a responsive reading where every time I end my sentence with a preposition, the audience has to say the clause back to me, with all its tits in the right bra cup this time. What are you waiting for now? (For what now am I waiting?) Sometimes the world arranges itself in Suessian piles, sometimes you have to help it along. I can put up with anything but panic. (Panic is what up with which is all you claim you cannot put.) Clouds, calm down!! Frozen nowhere is not just Superman’s lair of choice. It is a privilege to be hiding in the end of January with you. What do we weigh down today to keep from disappearing? We weigh down the river today to keep from disappearing. Do, I'd say. He'd say, "Every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed." Because he knew how to talk to a ghostbuster of a girl like me.
