SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Can I get a long drive to the end of the world? Can I slow dance with an astronaut? Can I drink caviar from a paper cup? The hair dresser sat on a cupcake and the horse race ended in shame. I’m wearing a bridal gown and red lipstick. I’m twirling around a peppermint pole.
Wheel barrows filled with jewels are tipped into the jaws of surrealist sea monsters. The walls are hung with oil paintings of aristocrats sitting in red velvet chairs. They wear stinking silk tights and sooty fur capes. This signifies that ghosts live here in children’s cartoons the same way that graffiti on trains means that black people do.
How does one become pregnant on a middle class wage? You become an old lady so fast these days. Those new age crystal people are a timeless cottage industry. I wish my thoughts came in neatly packaged paragraphs. I need to make a fortune to pay for my funeral.