The poem
Let us suppose, valleys & such ago, one pal unwinding from his labours in one bar of Chicago and this did actually happen. This was so. And many graces are slipped, & many a sin even that laid man low
but this will be remembered & told over, that she was heard at last, haughtful & greasy, to brawl in that low bar: 'You can biff me, you can bang me, get it you'll never. I may be only a Polack broad but I don't lay easy. Kiss my ass, that's what you are.'
Women is better, braver. In a foehn of loss entire, which too they hotter understand, having had it, we struggle. Some hang heavy on the sauce, some invest in the past, one hides in the land. Henry was not his favourite.