Oh Rachel, I don't know what it is about you... I want us to run bare foot together so as to leave but small carbon footprints. I want you to hug me tight... like a tree. I want to lasso you the moon without ruining the ozone further. I want you to take my hand and redistribute my wealth. I want to show you my big guns so you can confiscate them or at least keep my background in check. I want you to be my James Carville and I will be your Mary Matalin. I want us to understand each other as well so I'll share my inner Clinton with you if you show me your Bush. Use me. Tax me to death. Please. Treat me like an undocumented illegal and grant me amnesty in your omniscient grace. May your pant suit never crease and your chestnut plume never fray and may my right wing abide by your left wing as we flutter through a future progressive regressive utopia, together. Or something like that.
