when I have all of the words? your songs make me butterfly in all of the tips of me. the rush of paper wings in veins. I am so in love, all of the time, & with everything. here I sit, in unionbay tee, with hat & frenched braid through the hole, listening to a song that MIGHT make you happy, MIGHT make you cry, and we both be nostalgic. & still we never, ever, ever meet. I have the regular liquors, the cocktail, the bourbon, the herbs from your crying garden. stay here! you wail, shirt longer than your shorts. but of course, I have to go now. but why? you cry out, as I pull those plump little cherry tomatoes from their vines. bye bye
