The Letter "S," Like the Number 5, Makes "She"

He floats on lint.
He culminates in coke bottles.
He makes mistakes like tree limbs.
He is not nacre, nor do his nipples taste like helium.
Never will you hear the feminine form of a noun pronounced effeminately.
If he knew how to read, he would love Hemingway.
If he were to sashay, you would think he was about to kill a bear or something.
He lights cigarettes with macabre stop signs.
Punctuation, to him, means applying a knife to a girdle.