Think: Who Has Vans, Huh? Soccer Moms

She Knew What It Was To Wait For Someone Who Would Never Come Home. She Knew That Grief, Like A Scar, Faded But Never Really Went Away.

He Took Comfort In The Neon Signs, The Wild Strands Of Jazz Creeping Out Of Clubs Whenever Happy Swells Of People Pushed Through The Doors In Their Finery.

Dammit!" "what?" Gonzo Sounds Panicked. "we're Out Of Gas." "you're Shithenging Me." "i Shithenge You Not.

Perhaps This Is How Girls Fall -- Not In Some Crime Of Enchantment At The Hands Of A Wicked Ne'er-do-well, A Grand Before And After In Which They Are Innocent Victims Who Have No Say In The Matter. Perhaps They Simply Are Kissed And Want To Kiss Back. Perhaps They Even Kiss First. And Why Should They Not?

The Sun Has Blessed You," Sarita Used To Say. "look How He Has Left His Kisses On Your Face For All To See And Be Jealous." "the Sun Loves You More," I Said, Rubbing My Hands Over Her Dry Arms, The Color Of An Aged Wine Gourd, And She Laughed. But This Is Not India And We Are Not Prized For Our Freckles Here. The Sun Is Not Allowed To Show His Love.