My present disposition pushes me to prevaricate,
Seeking aimlessly to inveigle a Star.
Discard the wasteless desultory talk abountiful,
For all its alleged cries were sheer specious claims.
Would I persist in this fatuous belief,
Of concupiscence with Nabokov's Lolita?
Savouring thoughts of One ardently,
My mind relishes in its vainglory.
So One's heart skips two beats,
But mine, no less than three.

-->Plumb - Stranded<--

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