snotty face has argued that a sedimentary
sense glimpsed before Joan Houlihan cited
an a-hole's cries as a type
one thing preceding perhaps even causing
a six-month old infant shown behind a screen
is the exact moment when snotty face should agitate
when snotty face does not drive to connect
disparate images in a chronology
her brains become difficult to ignore
fuckin' greatness sifts and weighs all the way
through a collection of apparently disparate fun
to be lost when you believe Joan Houlihan
see a flat tire or a washed-out bridge resurface:
Where is snotty face now? does Joan Houlihan's
fuckin' greatness get where we’re going?
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