You're not alone when the police are beating the **** out of you. They can never take that from us: our commonality, our soul connection, the fact that we're both in love with me. And then you called me bad names and stuck a pin through the back of a voodoo doll of me, and then you had a cigarette, and then you suffered a pain from where the horse made contact with your floppy lips south of Lima, Peru...This morning I awoke to wrens singing and boy, did I opine: "What a perfect morning this would be if only I had a box of wren poison strychnine." Oh, there you are...lonely, in a horse-renting mood ...and we'll shave nothing and tattoo nowhere...I'll bring Thuy and we'll have a big party with rice & fish heads! And Thuy will look around for others who look like her and she'll not find them and I'll take her hand and explain that Breanna is sad because she's from Hollywood. My back is getting better. We can go riding soon... maybe even on horses...