“The moon looked like melted mozzarella to my bleary and blurry vision. Was I tired, intoxicated, or in love? Or was I sober, asleep, and alone?
”

“In my dream I woke up to realize I was tired and needed to go to sleep. Then I slowly remembered that I was asleep, but that I needed to wake up and write this down. Blah.”

“My eyes were blurry from being in love, and my feelings were as furry as Bigfoot. I thought I spotted Her, the women of my dreams, but the other cryptozoologists thought I was hallucinating. They chided me saying, “If there is no picture, there is no proof.”

“I made an ice sculpture that represents my love for you. It never melts.”

“I write like I make love: alone in my bathtub, as I let the fantasy overflow and wash over me.”

“I snorted powdered flamingoes while I pondered love. I sat at the bar two hours waiting for my ice on the rocks to melt so I could drink it and leave, but it was like my ex wife’s heart—it was just too frigid to melt. So I called up a midget, buckled myself in on his back, and had him give me a ride home. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“Look down and you may miss a shooting star in the sky. Look up and you may miss a starfish in the sand. But quick, look straight ahead and tell me what is that big, blurry thing that’s so bright? Oh yeah, that’s my love for you.”