What Makes You Think I Care?

I am going to move back to Miami (because it is such the best place in the world) and go find my first love/bipolar junkie ex whose been living on the streets of “Overtown” the past few years, when he’s not been in jail or rehab. And when I find his strung-out self I will rope him up and “nurse him back to health,” which really means bringing him to a point of emotional turmoil and constant hallucination in an enclosed, domestic space rather than lying around a little more peacefully and illegally in public. And then I will go crazy again, too, so we can live on Social Security Disability, in the sunshine, making vegan pancakes all day (because I will have gone back into believing in social agendas and whatnot), basking in the glory of all that GLITTER he wears. And he will be all Buddhist and I will be telling him all the reasons that Buddhism has bad politics and we both will be sooooooooo right. And he will call me mama and it will be more or less true. And I won’t break up with him when he keeps trying to kill himself and cuts himself all up, this time. I will just give him head while he’s doing it. And we will probably die sometime or something, but I can’t get that far ahead of myself.