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Your Three o' Clock is HereI sometimes put Tabasco sauce on my food. Not because I like Tabasco, mind you. Frankly, I despise the stuff. No, I do it because it makes everything delightfully chaotic for a while. The overwhelming taste on my tongue, the intense need of a drink to obliterate it, the moment of utter sadness at the fact that my food has become entirely inedible. All is wrong, all is lost, and oh, where is my salvation in the form of a water glass? Then it's over. Everything lines up once more; I'll live to eat another unsullied meal on another day.I jump into fountains, too. Clothes on and everything. Oh, and I sometimes burst into song in the elevator or the waiting room at the doctor's office."Look at that girl," people say. "How crazy she is, or how brave. How little she cares about social norms. She lives in the moment!"Yes, that girl certainly does. They all go about the rest of the day, the rest of their lives, never knowing that the girl who lives in the moment is as much of a moment
Welcome to the ClubCome join us, dear forgotten one,Here, where we know how you feel.So easily banished, were you not?So easily cast aside.It happened to all of us, poor soul:We who let go and lovedWere shown we were not worth the timeOnce someone better came along.They will still need us, now and then,And we will gladly be usedFor our happiness still depends on theirsAnd, oh, how they know it.So, come, and let us rememberHow we all once called them ours,How it felt to know they loved usHow it felt to learn we were wrong.The good times and the bad timesWill be equally preserved.We will not forget as they have...Or they never happened at all.