Besides, Secretly, Without Knowing It Herself, She

A Kiss About Apple Pie A La Mode With The Vanilla Creaminess Melting In The Pie Heat. A Kiss About Chocolate, When You Haven't Eaten Chocolate In A Year. A Kiss About Palm Trees Speeding By, Trailing Pink Clouds When You Drive Down The Strip Sizzling With Champagne. A Kiss About Spotlights Fanning The Sky And The Swollen Sea Spilling Like Tears All Over Your Legs.

L.a. Kills People.' Jacaranda Said. 'you're Lucky You're Leaving. You'll Be Able To Write.' She Looked Paler, Going Through Another Depression, Smoking In Bed In Her Lilac Room. The Walls Were The Color Of Her Veins. She Was Getting Too Thin, Even For The Modeling. . .jacaranda Died Last Winter When The Flowering Trees Were Bare. You Couldn't Even Tell Which Ones Once Cried The Purple Blossoms She Named Herself After.

What Sexual Preference Do You Hope She Has?” “happiness.” Isnt That Cool?

She Had Changed Him. The Ice Was In His Eyes And In His Heart, Like He Had Predicted With That Song, But Now They Were Deep Embedded There, All The Pain Of The World. Not Pain To Make You Feel For Somebody Else But Pain To Make You Stop Feeling.

I Wrote Poetry From The Time I Could Write. That Was The Only Way I Could Begin To Express Who I Was But The Poems Didn't Make Sense To My Teachers. They Didn't Rhyme. They Were About The Wind Sounds, The Planets' Motions, Never About Who I Was Or How I Felt. I Didn't Think I Felt Anything. I Was This Mind More Than A Body Or A Heart. My Mind Photographing The Stars, Hearing The Wind.