sometimes, you just can't resist. all the Get Smart doors are jimmied open and there you sit, waiting and wondering what next, what next. you pack your things in a brown paper bag, and let violins escort you out, two-step to the slid guitar past dented walls and torn curtains, laughing...giggling even. you're doomed girl, but right now it's a blast. you’ve dropped the hard coating around your chest and head, hiked up your skirt instead...there is no destination. no expectations. no scrambling for a ticket to the grand party inside...red wine feeds the gray places, manhands into spaces formerly blind.

oh sweetheart. you’re finished, good luck.