I Wrote Poetry From The Time I

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She Wished She Had A Little Yellow House Of Her Own, With A Flower Box Full Of Real Flowers And Herbs – Pansies And Rosemary – And A Sweet Lover Who Would Swing Dance With Her In The Evenings And Cook Pasta And Read Poetry Aloud.

Maybe I Would Become A Mermaid... I Would Live In The Swirling Blue-green Currents, Doing Exotic Underwater Dances For The Fish, Kissed By Sea Anemones, Caressed By Seaweed Shawls. I Would Have A Doliphin Friend. He Would Have Merry Eyes And Thick Flesh Of A God. My Fingernails Would Be Tiny Shells And My Skin Would Be Like Jade With Light Shining Through It I Would Never Have To Come Back Up

It's Not That I Literally Think I'm A Fearie. It's Just That I Feel So Different From Most People. And This Idea Of A Race Living Underground In Caverns, Spending All Their Days Dancing And Playing The Fiddle And Eating Flowers And Reciting Poetry And Sharing Their Dreams, That To Me Sounds Much More Real Than The Way People Live In This World, Hating And Fighting And Wanting And Hurting.

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