Found Fragments

Hortensius I

B: A supple wrist

A: Nautical naughtitties.

B: The time is now 28 B. C.

A: You’re telling me the church will want a piece of this?

B: I’m thinking about your dropping your keys and how embarrassed you must have been.

A: My beard grown longer for you.

B: The image of me hatholding your candelabrum. What a handjob!

A: Have you seen Augustine lately? He looks great!

B: Oh, he’s always in his color wheel. You made my hair out of brown and white clay, my hands from fragments of paper, my teeth from snasty comment, my breath from wiffles, my tart skin from the tannins in grapes, my breasts from antioxidants, my teeth from orange peels, my pits from olive trees, my arms from tires, my legs from snickers, my arms from the hunt, my legs from the grip, my pits from the heavens, my lips from the split.