Birthdays

I have taken my ambien, sitting on my chemise covered bed listening to the 5th Dimension's One Less Bell to Answer sipping my rose petal and apricot tea. I should be happy and I am. It was my birthday last week. 30 plus 1 one odd years spent being me. Not expecting anything in particular aside of birthdays and well wishes. I received them. Oh Dionne Warwick is playing "Save little Prayer." Fitting, but my phone rang and I picked up with ample fingers and hit the message button and there he was. A paramour and yes I loved it. He had left not just a greeting but a song. He always speakes better thru songs and I just get all awkward, school girlish that a gorgeous boy is singing to me in counter tenor. For goodness sakes, I blushed and nearly tumbled over my gawky littel limbs.

I have a place where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
It's not on any chart,
You must find it with your heart.
Never Never Land.

It might be miles beyond the moon,
Or right there where you stand.


Just keep an open mind,
And then suddenly you'll find
Never Never Land.

You'll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old.

And that's my home where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
Just think of lovely things.
And your heart will fly on wings,
Forever in Never Never Land.

You'll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old.

And that's my home where dreams are born,

And time is never planned.
Just think of lovely things.
And your heart will fly on wings,
Forever in Never Never Land

But that's the trouble with boys. One day they say the will paint the sky egg shell blue for you and the next day it's plaid. I look good in both but why don't they see that? Is my ex in Never Never Land or am I? He sees me as phenomenal boy laced to quirk. A walking boudoir crisis, poor lamb. Oh, dear hearts, its all true but who cares. I am working on it, but when practices becomes skilled I find my self so goose witted, yes all fingers and thumbs. What to do?It is as David Sedaris wrote (Me Talk Pretty One Day.) Pg 156...."If your not cute you might as well be clever." So what happens if a boy is cute and clever?

Does he get what dreams of ? Or is he left with more clever bite sized dreams in his hands lost in Never Never Land looking for Tigerlily instead of the elusive Tinkerbell?