Thought maybe you were in love with me.

shadows of a pretend mess. liter of dew, downed in the five-minute break in the middle of a long evening class. twitching, hearing music in my head, playing the keyboard on my notebook. forgetting everything only moments after remembering. flying home, into the wind, feet not touching the ground until the driveway. still jumpy. i have so many sentimental objects, it's ridiculous; this bracelet means this and that necklace means that. in my mind i am wildy affectionate and open and lively, but on tape i am flat and boring and remote. so i compensate with nail polish. fuck you, macho automotive aggressive angry frightened serious america. i laugh and turn away, keep walking.

this camouflage makes us feel less vulnerable, less displayed, less mainstream. the bright orange makes sure we don't get lost or wounded. emotional dressing is the catchphrase of the moment. 'lifted' is the bright eyes album of the moment. this morning it was 'letting off the happiness'.

children are people, too. don't fuck with them.

i am perfect in every way.