I'd like to tell you about my desire to have freckles on my face that reflect the sky on the warmest night of July standing in front of my parent's house at the top of the driveway and of the people who have gotten lost inside my head from too many sleepless night spent trying to unravel every word ever said ever spoken from me to them, and in return. I'd like to tell you about how I'll never learn and how there was a snake in the grass in the eye of my childhood cat, a man with an ax banging on the back of my wall, I'd like to tell you about how I've seen it all.