Just when I start to worry that I've used up my joy, exuberance raises its hand and asks for a seat at the banquet. I'm just gonna plan to rock till I drop. What have I got to lose?
Dinner was papaya salad and banana pudding washed down with cheap Chilean wine. I've got velvet shoes and the best dog in the world.
Memories that exceed my adolescent imagination drown in the crevices of my medial temporal lobes. Can't do sixty no more. Come on, seventy- do your worst. Unburdened by success and unbridled by renown, I'm free to wiggle.
Would it embarrass you for me to tell you that I love you?
I love you.