franny
bananafish

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.