What makes a man, makes amends,
She said, as she pooled the deep's up higher.
What wakes a woman, wakes the ends
Of the birth, he said, as he pooled balm.

She said, as she pooled the deep's up higher,
I don't corpulent your spray, you're a purse
Of the mirth, he interrupted, as he pooled balm.
Of nit! I was engorging Thursday, she said.

I don't corpulent your spray, you're a parse
Of good nude, he interrupted again, of lark!
Of nuke! I was engorging Thursday, she said.
He jumbled stout of dread, pooling the deep's fifth hum,

Of good jukes, he repeated, of lark!
She didn't have dawn dawning close. Sheep bees and a fly.
He galumphed brackish in head, pooling the deep's lover her,
Speak seems, he said. Uvula va-va-voom, she said.