Facing her.  Facing me.  In other words balance.  Both naked. 
Nothing held back.  All needed saying hs hereby said and forgotten
about.  It's hard to write in the back seat of a moving car with
your guitarist's jacket over your head so your hair won't blow.
But, all said and forgotten about.  I gaze into her beautiful 
brown eyes and say, "nothing.  Nothing at all."  she smiles and
turns around to walk slowly across the marble floor towards the
door.  Going to leave.  Ain't going to return.  But ain't
isn't a word.  But again, who has the right to determine whether
or not ain't isn't a word?  This is what bugs her.  The fact that
other people have told her that certain words are not words, and
that certain feelings should not be felt.  In other words, she
accepts acceptance less than I do.  She then turns back around
and says, "it was you!"  I say, "what right do you have to judge
me?"  She then speaks of what was told to her, by her and
by others.  She is suddenly holding a large sliver of glass and 
slashes me across the chest with joy.  She has concquered what
she hates!  Too bad it wasn't the real hate, otherwise I would
have died.  She jumped down the hole near the door, never to
return.  To this day, I still wonder about what happened to her.
I can't stop wondering why she was there.  I mean, I was in the
back seat of a moving car with y guitarist's jacket over my head
so my hair wouldn't blow, and then I'm naked with a girl standing
next to me holding a sliver of glass and a bag.  I still don't 
know what was inside of the bag.  Wait.  I hear her outside. Yes!
She's back!  I'm going to speak with her now.  "All I have done
I will continue now," is what she is saying to me.  I have lost
interest in the whole situation.  I am back in the back seat of
the car again.





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