The whore of the Horror Plunge

She shows leg. She shows her leg. This is the divorce. Oh, porter! Oh, porter! This is the divorce stage. The early stage. The first time she is engaged in divorce and socially, most appropriately, the last--oh, I apologize, the final. She is american, like the flag is american, like the colors, they too, like they too are american. They are all american. America, Gus mentions, casually: Porter! Porter!

It was a sitcom, the first run through was a sitcom, a love story. She was pretty and short and....no, again: she was pretty and tall and lean and blonde and he was strong and firm and rational....no, again: he was an uncut statue, a human hero, a roman undug congressman. Oh, the Roman's were, yes, were so romantic.

She is on her pill, again, broke, peppered by the whistle, the church bells, anything spiritual at all. Any state leader, moderator, would be encouraged by the moderate music of fidelity. Ah, there is a heroine. She, yes, yes, the she that is completely compelled to be herself is indeed herself!

She shows leg and she attracts attention. There are only three million women in New York City and most of them are not attracted by other women. I am not competing with the other women, Hank insists but the color of the sun, like the color of the earth, is suggesting, perhaps erotically: we were erotic, we were sexual, we were un-crying men, we were loving ourselves, ourselves were so much to be loved--SHE SHOWED HER LEG.

Exposed: finally, exacted, flaunt! flaunt! She has no longer caught our curiousity. There are three million men in New York City and they are not interested in the woman who shows her leg. However, however, simply exhilirated, angered, exasperated, TORN. The whore of the male's animal plunge. The whore of the male and his animal plunge.

The horror of the plunge. I am just a show of my leg anyway, she wrote and she was not upset, not at all.