Albert Flynn DeSilver
A Yawn and the Sign of Unconditional Love

A yawn might be used to vacuum the drapes, or stifle a windmill,
or yank crinkled pale sheets off the Pacific.  It is taut now, the
sea like starched sheets, starched sheets taught to sing from their
sheetlike lips, that drunken sailor’s song, “I was six sheets to the
wind, and twelve crabs to the clouds.”  At which point one’s
mouth is interrupted by a passing lightning storm, that has
traipsed in off the sea.  To have your mouth agape, full of electric
clouds, ships passing between your interrupted teeth, this is a
sign of unconditional love.

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