“You’re obviously going for some kind of world record here.” Keith called over to Danny as he looked at all the books on Danny’s shelves and the various piles all over the apartment. “You’ve read all of them?” “Most of them twice.” Danny looked up from his sketchpad. “They’re that good?” Keith asked, flipping through a small paperback he remembered trying to read in college. “Not a lot of them, I’m just that bored,” Danny said, looking at the book in Keith’s hands. “That was Christopher’s. Look at the wrinkles on the spine, I think he used to read it at least once a month. Me, I get through ten pages and I need a motion sickness pill.” Keith laughed and tossed the book back onto the couch. He knew the question was coming. Why was he feeling so guilty today? “So, how is he?” Danny asked. “Is he still living at his mother’s? That’s when I last heard about him, he’d had to move out of home. Has he put any weight back on?” Keith tried to answer, but that peculiar tightening was gripping his chest again.
We like our choruses sung together. We like our arms in our brother’s arms. Call every girl we ever met Maria, But only love Virginia’s heart.
We sing with our heroes thirty-three rounds per minute. We’re never goin’ home til the sun say’s we’re finished. I’ll love you forever if I ever love at all. Wild heart hearts, blue jeans and white t-shirts.