The Piano Flutters Like a Drunk Butterfly

Or maybe butterflies flutter like drunk pianos. One of those is right. I know butterflies much better than margarine!!!!!!!!!!! I was in Vienna a short time ago. People traveled in fiberglass bubbles, that darted through the air. There was a funny dog. Nevermind, that’s the Jetsons re-run I watched on Tuesday. But Don’t you think Judy is hot? I think she should quit Space Age Beauty School, and concentrate on her rocky relationship with the undeniably hunky Irving.

Vienna is the place fingers come from by the way. And Mozart. Fingers and Mozart. Vienna is the most encouraging city I have seen. There was already a postcard in my mailbox when I arrived home. There are buildings way older and better than the pennies you save that you think you are old, and probably worth more too. There were many different tongues, saliva from at least a dozen different countries covers St. Stephen’s Square. There were Spanish sneezes, Czech coughs, French farts, German groans, etc. etc. Fucking expensive though. Somebody says it because of some giant European Onion. I don’t understand. I’m drunk.

The Moment I Stopped Loving You

was probably
around the campfire
when I told you
I thought of
the perfect chorus
for a pop song
and you never
asked me
what it was.