Perestroika.

What Joy remarked to the fairest: I can't lose you. Not like my keys, but in similar degrees. I need you. More than you need your boys. It gets stronger with every step down Edgewater Drive.

Where would we be without Kissimmee? You'd prove yourself in a cabaret, I'll the be the cash within your lingerie. If coffee's for closers, then openers are posers with blacklight smiles engraved on their face. You're the "A" in headache. You're like a wind-chime for the deaf, or the sunlight to the blind. You're everything but mine. And it's cruelly stabbing the throbbing burns from our front-porch-sagas. I don't think I'll believe you this time. Change has come. You're the assignment I continually forget to submit in english. You're the Gorbachev to my Glasnost; the fuse to a dynamite-lined mirror in my hallway containing the closet I pitched camp in.

I will not be the calendar this year.

A multimillionaire, of all forms, found a dancer to finance his love with. And I feel like her, clad in stud belts and headed for California mountains to start an industry in something still illegal. We'll call it "Summer," I suppose. The eleven train swings by. And I watch your video more than I go to class because I miss you, I love you, and all that cliche sob story.

Tell me where musicians fingers meet lavished prince's paupers; as unlikely as Draco and Ginny. It's oxymoronic, and that's sort of the point, isn't it? I have built things, I have composed word, and it's gorgeous. I constructed a desk, all on my own, and I wrote an extensive prologue, by myself. And everyone should be proud because it isn't school, but it's an application, nonetheless. and It's in April, which is surprising to me. These are wanton acts of teenagery.

This is where mighty meets the might-haves. Where sober college-bounders take fourteen hour naps. And where we all came from, before we spread around. There's fifty states in this tiny place, let's construct a plan to see each one, perhaps. This is our town?

This is our problem; we're stuck here. Wayward and wary and worried, uncanny, we're bored. There's more than Friday nights of coolers and ice. Though, I couldn't exactly explain right now.

And, hopelessly, with less than two months, I finally bought a table to hold what I'm capable of