. . . what an idea, tea with Alice. Consider that an invite, my dearest.

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Dedicated to Thomas Pynchon for his classic rocket limericks . . .

There was this belle bulker named Alice
Who enters New York heavy, then leaves in ballast.
As she follows that beaut bulbous bow
I am oercome with desire, and vow
Some day she’ll relish dry dock inside a my palace

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A dark ship from the fleet of Oldendorff
Makes regular stops in Brooklyn’s navy yard wharf
Endless sea miles repeated she’ll travel
To discharge tons of crush-ed gravel
Must I-to win her affection-into a tanker morph?

So lay in, comrades. Don’t fail us. Your limerick could built the saga of Alice.

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