Still July’s seven days hence,
In my sixty-four years I have oozed,
Enough equivalent to seven Val’s,
Pussed enough to never puss again,
Sweated the great lakes,
Wish I had loved enough for twenty Val’s,
After I finally go after kitty crunches and Celery I’m going to return to sitting,
This afternoon I feel like an Easter Island guardian all they ever do is sit,
Watching the world go by,
Val's Whitewolf Books 