My Memories Of Them Had

You Start Admiring Someone Who's Famous For Actually Doing Something---imagine That---and I Swear To You I Will Buy You Every Item In Her Entire Wardrobe. But Over My Own Dead Body Will I Spend My Own Time And Money Turning You Into A Clone Of Some Brain-dead Waste Of Skin Who Thinks The Pinnacle Of Achievement Is Selling Her Wedding Shots To A Magazine.

I Wanted To Tell Her That Being Loved Is A Talent Too, That It Takes As Much Guts And As Much Work As Loving; That Some People, For Whatever Reason, Never Learn The Knack

The Girls I Dream Of Are The Gentle Ones, Wistful By High Windows Or Singing Sweet Old Songs At A Piano, Long Hair Drifting, Tender As Apple Blossom. But A Girl Who Goes Into Battle Beside You And Keeps Your Back Is A Different Thing, A Thing To Make You Shiver. Think Of The First Time You Slept With Someone, Or The First Time You Fell In Love: That Blinding Explosion That Left You Cracking To The Fingertips With Electricity, Initiated And Transformed. I Tell You That Was Nothing, Nothing At All, Beside The Power Of Putting Your Lives, Simply And Daily, Into Each Other's Hands.

People You Knew When You Were Teenagers, The Ones Who Saw Your Stupidest Haircut And The Most Embarrassing Things You've Done In Your Life, And They Still Cared About You After All That: They're Not Replaceable, You Know?

Some People Are Little Chernobyls, Shimmering With Silent, Spreading Poison: Get Anywhere Near Them And Every Breath You Take Will Wreck You From The Inside Out.