a futile explanation that i'm never going to make to him: there's this tornado person, he's a very nice person-- if you tiptoe around all his frayed nerves he's even a sweet person--if you sit very still and lurk underneath his radar he loves my friend, my young friend, who hasn't been weathered yet by forces of nature see what neither of them seem to grasp is i don't think he'll shake her but i know that the wind will i'm just waiting for the moment my sister needs a hand he resents that, i think he does, the one sided support-- but how am i supposed to reach for someone already hurtling towards the stratosphere? and how am i supposed to regret holding on to my blood? i'm no saint. but i'm not a bad person mr. tornado. |