The ship is leaving and the people are squinting, trying to see through the irrefutable fog. Just dropped you off; cried all the way home. How are you 11, today, as it rains in Las Vegas? Is it not still somehow now that on you the kitty is jumping? Nostalgia's not but a wilted abstraction for craving the stars. What I mean to say is that I am stunned. Amazed at such a thing as a you and a me, time, and this nonstop speechless world.