saucy ghost whatsoever?

i didn't write the last line, which should really read:
"but with no discontent,
there can be no night's pleasure."

but this is what happens when you let things (like poems) sit out over night instead of refrigerating them...they spoil.

sean michael, you know how you said my face changes, when i see him?
it used to do that when i saw you, too.