Goodbye," I Whisper At Last, When It

The Glow Dies Down, And She's Standing At The End Of My Bed--the One Who's Been Following Me Around Leaving Feather Messages. I Take In The Torn Fishnets, Plaid Mini-kilt, Shiny, Riveted Breastplate With Leather Straps At The Sides And A Worn Great Temolo Decal Near The Left Shoulder. Her Wings Are A Crazy Black-and-white-checkered Pattern, Like They've Been Spray-painted At A Body Shop To Look Like Hipster Sneakers.

Sometimes We Seek That Which We Are Not Yet Ready To Find.

The Corporation Would Like To Apologize For The Preceding Pages. Of Course, It's Not All Right For Girls To Behave This Way. Sexuality Is Not Meant To Be This Way - An Honest, Consensual Expression In Which A Girl Might Take An Active Role When She Feels Good And Ready And Not One Minute Before. No. Sexual Desire Is Meant To Sell Soap. And Cars. And Beer. And Religion.

My Cholera's Acting Up Again.

Did God Ever Cry Over His Lost Angel, I Wonder?