"Just the tip"

Just, the tip that's all 
they'd ask for tax and 
law forbid the last. And

service? Woman, you'd 
hate that. 

So shit on yelp!
You poppycat. 

You can't hold Cher 
to what ain't dear,
you can't bone Bono
or the Edge. You cunt 
call Eirish Eyes So Queer 
you'd fake your accent
to the ledge, if that's
what leads you on, 
some how. Some 
bad, boy band in

wraparounds. Some
shady eyes to see no
light. To tell or slay
by candle gaze. Call 
Cali's phone! Go butt 
dialing! Go find your 
muse in Point Reyes!

An Elk licked us. 

Not you! Weren't there.
The actress never did mind less.
You don't believe in things so known. 

It's better far to never love,
again, with feeling, meaning
less than love again to loss.

Well-known. We'll die this way. 

Just as we met. 

It ain't no loss or gain, just end. 

And still you're such a tony, classy,
grand romantic dancing boss to spend. 

One jazzy week-end with. That's some 
hoarse bet, Bogart-Bacall. The Big Sleep 
looked so unlegit, that is  

until
they mated! 

(Stall)