I was really ready to remember a better you that spoke French, even if I take the bus. Even when I fall asleep with my arm on the thermostat, even when I was crying about the older sentences we'd found so amusing, I mean not crying actually. laughing.

They'd take my arms off first and give them to a girl who wanted to hold her child.
They'd take my legs off next and make some girl walk more miles than before she'd been attacked by a shark.
And then I'd feel really sorry. I'd write them letters and say, I'm sorry you'll get bruises now; never figured that one out. One'd write back and say, "I found the burn on your right arm, where you dropped a pan of hot water. The other'd write back and say, "You have flat feet, but some good shape otherwise."
But that would be the end of it, a farewell to limbs.

And then I'd wake up in a Tim Burton movie, or else South Dakota and make a lot more spelling errors than I use to. Better sentences, more amusing.
I'd put Z's where S's go, like I was British.
I wouldn't eavesdrop or drink lattes.
You wouldn't either.
I'd put a note on my calendar when you're coming back, but forget because I'd drop my phone in a boiling river by accident.
It's okay, for a Wednesday though.