• Synapse to synapse: the possibility's thin. I'm dressed up for free drinks and family greetings on your wedding date. The figures in plastic on the wedding cake that I took were so real. And I kept a distance: the complications cloud the postcards and blips through fiberoptics, as the girls with the pigtails were running from little boys wearing bowties their parents bought: "I'll catch you this time!" Crashing through the parlor doors, what was your first reaction? Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine. You were the one but I can't spit it out when the date's been set. The white routine to be ingested inaccurately.

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