“I mustn’t be too forward with her. Now she sulks on the steps letting her wings hang wearily. Will she not look me in the eye? …Look at those feet, those legs…should I tickle her? Listen, fair lady, I’ll be your ladle, your lad, your laver, if only you love me.” (From: “Halloween Hustler”, Birchcrow Press, Classics of American Horror, Kennebunkport ME, 1976).
