Remember how it was when we kissed? Armfuls and armfuls of light thrown right at us. A rope dropping down from the sky. How can the word love and the word life even fit in the mouth?

Sometimes you think you know things, know things very deeply, only to realize you don't know a damn thing.

We wish with our hands, that's what we do as artists.

I gasp, because Isn't that just exactly what I've been doing too: writing poems and scattering them to the winds with the same hope as Gram that someone, someday, somewhere might understand who I am, who my sister was, and what happened to us.

When he plays all the flowers swap colors and years and decades and centuries of rain pour back into the sky

I'm layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE.

When people fall in love, they burst into flames.