farewell chanties

i pretended my shoes were slip-ons, and you tried to prove the world wasn't flat as a pancake. but yr eyes are cute when they crinkle up confused so i didn't tell you that it's all been done, and that raindrops are missiles from angry clouds. (you claim they're missives but i failed dictionary class so i wouldn't know which one is better), but i'm running away to go to map school and pore over books bigger than i am, glasses perched on my librarianesque nose. sucker punch to the eardrum and stretch to the ceiling. camera flashing spewing out small squares that we'll stack neatly and burn in a ceremonial display of cinnamon revival. i think we can distract the gods of running & noise if we make a stunning main dish of noodles plaintains pickle juice too. if all else fails there's always a roommate we can spare to satisfy their sacrificial cravings. anyways, back to the story. so when the ghostly trashtalker showed up past midnight he tried to bite my nose off, and i defended myself with guitar strings i'd hidden in my piles of hair. we made a fingers-crossed truce and joined the others for orgies and movie endings and i blew her kisses while i dodged yr warm-bodied advances. hands through hair. elbows and armpits and toenails. i wish you were sober so forward. i hope this isn't goodbye. what happened to florida?