Henry
Quince is
more than quinces:
Quince is hints, is
glints and winces;
what a spark that lark of Quince's,
as I scarf my morning blintzes.
Christ, Henry, that's the second time in a few days that your name has brought out the monorhyming maniac within me. Life would be simpler if it really was Coing, but in America we dance with whom we brung.
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