Hand-write me a letter and i'll come running back, covered in feathers thick as leather hoping that we'll get together again. But I'm not so naive to think that we've unwoven the strands in the steel barricade of distance. I'm just emptily hopeful, believing home will have built itself in my absence. "I don't have the nerve to face that girl without my cue cards. I just jot out my thoughts and blot out the spots where the sentences are sewn together. (to make a seamless presentation). Maybe if she cared at all she'd scrawl that note out and leave it on my porch while i'm at work. It be much easier to face her like that, if this charade i've played just stayed faceless and detached."