Goose Clover (6)

   
   "Goose Clover (6)"
   
   I, Goose Clover--so that's what they call me--yup; anyway, was in the metaphorical ditch of melancholy.  No, don't get me wrong, for I have no lack of interest.  Just major concern for Freckles, and sublime contempt for all the nasty toxicity that had been thrown in her meek direction.
   Yeah, possibly, corporeally unpleasant, or rather, non-advanced femininity seems to lash out with vulgarities, yet Freckles was so darn pleasant and fresh, like a fancy soap made by those educated people--them in their labs with diplomas hanging on the wall.
   I just had to lift her up.  To be her spiritual cheer and benevolent spirit.  I prayed when I pumped the gas at Amoco; next, I'd take her back to my place and we'd spin the vinyl.  It eased her.  A few KENT cigarettes too.  And yeah, she still had the darn Ford Pinto.  An accident waiting to happen.