Limp Fondue

I stare at your emerald eyes through my cracked screen, and reckon I’d like to have it repaired

You know, liberals used to brag about Gomorrah being the horniest city on this side of the Atlantic; I better be careful that I don’t get gored

I can’t stop thinking about the jewels in the picture, and of how cold it is outside, but the driver steps up to me: he wants me to get off his bus.