your cv reads the following floes of ice delight and the hail of snug gales whispering leggy thoughts and blowing rifts up the chino-holes, a wholesome banter, his, yours, the id, ides predicated on the rich texts, courtesy numbers with horned rhymes glad-handing by, whistles maybe, too, enlightened under sodium glares with a column or an indentation, varying on about animal sounds, peaches, tele-tubbies, your last found poem, a publication or two on instagram or some other soon-to-be-outdated photo sharing service, and numbers: many, idle, wise, ideal, idyllic, crying, tapered, funneled down to tips and whumps, pimps, primping sorts, the entire enchilada, spread out in guru grids for a perceptive prospective imploder to tell you in a manner threefold about yapes, tape recorded voices, and how s/he s/him was/n't under the likable manner to release any real tangible thoughts on the topic but really really enjoyed the discussion, and so, would repeat that set of phrases, in a broken but kinda soothing cadence, and then, well? well? well? well? addendum.
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