A game we once played.

... Pretend we're faeries. I'm a girl faerie. My name is Laura Lee. And you're a boy faerie. Your name is Tita Lee. Pretend, when we're faeries we fight each other, and I say "Stop hitting me or I'll die!" And you hit me again and I say, "Now I have to die." And then you say, "But I'll miss you." And I say, "But I have to. And you'll have to wait a million years to see me again. And I'll be put in a box, and all I'll need is a tiny glass of water and lots of tiny pieces of pizza and the box will have wings like an airplane." And you'll ask, "Where will it take you?" "Home." I say.

Salty days for Jackie Cane.

If you can't spend your special day with some who you wished you would have spent it with, then move unto noisier pastures, where your hurt will go unnoticed. Even better, they will see it at as your being overwhelmed by old age, or as being traumatically affected by a chest infection. Either way, move on.

That's it, you're older now.


... it won't be too soon till I say, goodnight moon.