With 2004.
She's sweet and beautiful, just like before.
But she is unraveling. She wants 2004 to be everywhere. Wants the same joy she had, and refuses to loosen her panic grip.
Look at this photo. It's like staring at people from a foreign country. The past.
Where you were so pluckish and goofy, like a baby duckling. You and your pretentious literary
mag swag. Celluar phone clipped to the pants with pride.
The past. That uninvited guest. You open the door. You pour it a drink. You keep your voice
firm. You will give them no hospitality. You grab their coat. You open and close the door behind them.
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