One More Fess(Pieter Bruegel Cliff)

How do you tell them how much you care? And do words have that kind of reach into our soft underbellies? I think not, compared to internal swellings.
("<----- romantic, educated decent lady who hates poetry.")
How can you hates poetry? It doesn't have to be out of a book, but we need it
nevertheless,
it's like that definition of porn
"I know it when I see it";
like romance,
knowing someone cares for us,
and that we have outs,
we needs it.
There is you and me and our twins twins, ego and conscience, conscious and id; whatever that means. It doesn't even matter anymore, the computer will crunch it and we'll bite lips; and then toast "boat drinks" over our enemies ashes on the azure waters off the coast of Elba after looting Napoleons treasures, crying "Able was I ere I saw Elba", and cackling under steam for Gibraltars Gate, and our Carib home base home.