I Feel Like A Carton Of Eggs

And I Couldn't Make Fun Of Her For That Dream. It Was My Dream, Too. And Indian Boys Weren't Supposed To Dream Like That. And White Girls From Small Towns Weren't Supposed To Dream Big, Either. We Were Supposed To Be Happy With Our Limitations. But There Was No Way Penelope And I Were Going To Sit Still. Nope, We Both Wanted To Fly.

The Streetlight Outside My House Shines On Tonight And I'm Watching It Like It Could Give Me A Vision. James Ain't Talked Ever And He Looks At That Streetlight Like It Was A Word And Maybe Like It Was A Verb. James Wanted To Streetlight Me And Make Me Bright And Beautiful So All The Moths And Bats Would Circle Me Like I Was The Center Of The World An Held Secrets.

There Isn't A Lot Of Poverty Literature In The Young-adult World. And I Don't Know Why That Is, But I Think Certainly I Felt A Gap.

Seems Like The Cold Would Never Go Away And Winter Would Be Like The Bottom Of My Feet But Then It Is Gone In One Night And In Its Place Comes The Sun So Large And Laughable.

Since Jesus Was Human Then He Most Assuredly Farted And Burped. And If God Did Create Us In God's Image Then God Must Fart And Burp As Well.