Put the slipper

on the dandelion and
tell your lover you can climax as many times as you want.
Whereupon the postmortem causation corrosion
will leave your undercarriage soggy
like the transmission of a Bridgeport Madam,
olives throttling the aggregate dragonheaded white horse
that knocks down the philanthropic crucible casserole
with Aristotelian, philosophic and venomous repartee.