Ramblin Christian Gypsy
Literary whimsy. Dedicated poetic observer.
The Mortification Of Countess SPF 50.
This sun is wreaking havoc on my nineteenth century, consumptive poetess’ complexion.
Only way to solve this is with a parasol.
Problem is, Scarlett wants to hold it for me.
Everywhere we go.
She will not be thwarted.
Which is just great.
I cannot even tell you
how I’ve always longed
to arrive everywhere
looking like King Julian and Mort.
Sigh.
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