Sapphic gallery

I demanded. “Our luggage isn’t here. Find it.”
His reply came in slow poetic sing-song, spoken as he looked at Leslie’s breasts. “Could be is back in Ho-hio, mon, sapphic erotica. ‘Ow’m I supposed to know?” He shrugged with great effort, sapphic gallery. “We can only h’unload what’s on dem in deh firs’ place, seen? It’s not dere, what can I do?” And with that, he drifted off to sleep.