tom. tom? let me fall out of the window with confetti in my hair

whether cubans, styr­i­ans or lieu­tenants r hit­tin the floor. whether this night, her night or mad e’leine albright cough­ing till she’s sore. whether she tells me her or we’re tellin us our secrets or the sun goes down … or what­ev­er­more .. I tell u all my secrets but I lie about my past … don’t send me off … no, yes .. not off 2 anoth­er town, just

send me off 2 bed for­ev­er more


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