Monday, September 20, 2010

Dear Ani, it's me, your biggest fan,

Been thinking a lot about inspiration,
And where it comes from,
And how to bottle it,
And if it works.
And if it could run down the middle of me in pink ribbons and stay aways.
And if it could give the rest of my organs the royal Buffalo finger tip and rip van winkle some highly educated midsummer laurels'?
And what's it to them?
And who are you?
My poetry teacher wears really cute clothes, but I wish she wouldn't eat bagels while I'm proposing, I mean, um, what is it?
I guess the stakes are much lower then I'm used to.
Wow, that's really, totally; special. I like it.
Could we blast some Not A Pretty Girl and do some jumping jacks real quick?
I need to clear my eyes for a second.
Kids these days blanch their margins so white, I have a hard time understanding the words.
Good thing I have your lyrics threaded through the stone black lips of my clitoris.
I used to have myself convinced that you rode subway trains to your own concerts, and on my way to the Aragon I would most certainly find myself on the same car and pole as you. And it would be packed, and pushy with judgers, florescent and straight lined like the hallways at state schools, hard schools. But we, Difranco and I, we would lock eyes, and I would play it so cool, cool like the q-tips that twirl on those fields I never had.

I know you get this all the time,

Your music really got me through some really rough times, and I just can't thank you enough, so I wont even try, so, I was wondering?

Is there any way, on this crowded subway train, you could, I've been thinking about this a lot, and we're not getting any younger--

And then she would shove her folk singing girl powered tongue down my inspired throat so hard, and roll it around so deep--that gold fish would have memories.

And I would get discovered, and lived in new York at the top of the cellar, and continued on the back flap without even trying.

The water would meet the rocks, Iowa would knock on my door, and frustration would plummet.

Oh Ani, I got my fist in the air and I'm willing to fight.

Thank you for having a van, I need my fantasies right now.

As is every Napoleon,
Skin and Toast

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