Tom, are you out there?

I remember the better times…gleeful amongst the random 40 ounces. The time my “big brothers” allowed me to “go home” with you. Balmy summer night you gave me a tour of the scariest parts of the universe (this is the center of the universe isn’t it?). I wasn’t scared…never was. I was more free back then. With my fair skin and feminine parts I didn’t fear the things that normal girls fray about and newspapers sensationalize.

Remember the riots? You made up this crazy story that you lend an attack on Starbucks. I never did see that news. I guess they were oppressing it. In a way you were repressed, oppressed, whatever you want to call it...but in other ways you were much more free.

I wish we could forget the past, but hey why bother. At least I will always remember your crack-head ways.