I'm going all the way with this thought parade.
There is no turning back and what's direction?
There is time and we know time, us, here, in this parade.
There is heat, warming glowing.
It's made of love and that's where we live.
Endless opportunities and surprises, magic milkshakes, tricks and spices.
Love your neighbor love your neighbor love your uncle and remember to thank her it's hard to live, death is unity, separate once but we found out how to unite right here in this little old life baby in the parade, soft parade, warm parade, thought parade.

Be a poet let the words forth.  Reach back and swiftly drag them to the open. Anything you like is what another ear would hope to hear and reasons can't be reason and her eyes can't be forgotten.

I've seen lovely things just get old unused and rotten. Fair or not her hair may be I shall not drown my misery. My sadness floats within my sight and when I shiver deep at night sometimes I wrap arms 'round my gloom and hold her closely tight.

Safe and warm now with my sadness I pry into her secrets and she splits softly sadly thankfully. She says, "I'm not all and never will be never was a say for me you keep me close don't think you could obliterate me give me room I need it baby it's okay when your happiness babe comes over let you walk in front of me I'll keep out of sight and watch the lovely way you kiss her from each shadow and I'll not rush you and as long as you don't try to ditch me or think you could even forget me I will be here when miss happy goes along her merry way and you will wrap your arms around me and remember you like my kiss more anyway."

It's five o clock here.
I will go drink a glass or two on the 27th floor and look out at the pretty cold town.
Then it's the bus to BrekFest and there's bands galore.
Who will I talk to, what will I run with?
Scissors!
Doing cartwheels!
Trying, tryyying.
Learning..... NOTHING!
Grooven moooven, spooonyo pretty peggy-o. That's all I wannaaaa dooooo.

My new favorite poet is a fifteen year old girl.
Margaret is clever it's astounding.
I knew youth was coming like this but usually when I saw it up close they we're just these maniacal computer wiz kids but this girl seems to party.
I hope she meets Alex Turner someday.
I hope she meets Andrew VanWyngarden too.
I don't know why, but I guess it's because they're dashing and she deserves the best.
I hope the world don't tangle her up too much and don't sit on her like a fat bully.
I know she can dodge it though and we need her and her vision of peace like a checkpoint.
My favorite new poet is a fifteen year old girl.
Shine on Margaret, light up the world.

So under under they clapped like thunder.
Rolled it over and dove around.
Picked up love and held it till it broke and splashed on their heads with a
           soft wet sound.
Drenched in jelly oozing warmth they licked their lips and spanked the
           season unforgiveness not forgotten they mash their fists til winter
           knows their name.
"Dread us winter take what's coming you're on time-out til we're famous
            not ambitious never stressing eat your veggies and blow your
            storm.
But not here no we're the North and you've been dried up stop your crying
            have fun south now count your blessings we'll talk later if you're
            game."
We've got dancing, we've got sunshine, drenched in jelly all the same.
Lick our lips cause we're relaxing how's it taste like raspberry chocolate?
They're not happy we'll be for them just like jelly not a crying shame.

See you where there is nothing you make it everything.
Blame it on earthlings and get bored with breathing.
Fan out your plume for you're prettier than reading.
And oh how I love to see the words on the page.

You came down slowly our agony receding.
Watching you falling triumphant we cried out.
Yours truly great mist, mist of wind, bolder rain now.
Let us just another time try to call you by name.

For everyone lithe to represent you for your glory, we thank you.
We love to see beauty and hold it up like a picture to the sun.
Then we go dancing, we knock them out.
Peasants danced, poor little girls without a word said more with their grace than so many ristocrats spit out of fancy schools.
We were upset to learn we had to do a little work, but elated to discover we had ability.
Then sometimes it was just easy. My God I love easy.
And when we're lazin are we not just in our right place and we know it.
Perfect laziness and horizontal. Let your arm drop to the cool wood floor.