Finishing a hat, mapping out a sky as I let the moment go (won’t forget it for a moment though) because it’s warm inside his eyes but another hundred people just got off of the train, and princes wait there in the woods (it’s true), princes, yes, but wolves and humans too. So merrily I roll along, outside the sky waits (beckoning, beckoning) and I remember sky (it was blue as ink) when everything was coming up roses. There ought to be clowns when I say things like I am unworthy of your love, for what I really mean is keep a tender distance (so we’ll both be free).
And I’m not getting married today. Unless it’s to the Miller’s son.