there once was this one girl. she was quite proper, but occasionally she would state her mind. she had an artist’s mind. i was good friends with this girl. she had a clean heart. she didn’t dwell or envy or despise. she loved despite the tragedy she’d encountered. she and i had good times, we had fun. that is to say, as much fun as you can have being 13 and growing up in Small Town, U.S.A. then she left.  the courts ordered her to join her father in the city. i always thought she belonged with me, in Small Town. and i hoped she’d come back. but she now lived in a place where she could walk to a bookstore. and go wandering for hours to find a good photo to capture. where art roamed free in the form of graffiti and street fashion. she found odd clubs whose missions she grew rather fond of. she found her cup of tea. and although i do miss her so, in the city, she found her place in this world.

and meanwhile, im stuck in Small Town, trying to find mine.