So it’s a hapless dream: me punching far above my grade, but why not?
Why can’t I dream big, love from afar, use all that butterflies-in-the-stomach power
to crank out some lovely, lovely lines?
Yes sir, I’ll harness all that unrequited love and put it to honest work –
it’s a delicious melancholy whose heart beats good ink:
Lay, lay, laying down all the sad and the sweet words.