And I don't really miss you, I just need to know
Do you ever think of you and I
And that beautiful goodbye.
(A. Marshall, Beautiful Goodbye)
I do not get you, recklessly. Fetch and go play, come back with lolling tongues. Give me the lists and lists of things you read and saw, laid down for admiration. Run out hunting, return to tell me that you'd never kill a mouse.
While I am left to check my mailbox: Waiting for a ticket back to old reality.
The alps are south of here. Pointing them out to you (nose pressed up flat against the window), I might become an alcoholic. Anything, to take the edge off.
Demand in me is exogenous. Flowered b