"Baby, is this love for real?"

Well, I thought it was; late last year I was in raptures, all tied up in knots over your imminent arrival upon my shores. How long I've waited is measurable in calendar days, but not in wasted emotions and spent admiration. This love, for real? No, this is fickle; a one-way relationship where my love _isn't _your love. You never cared for me. You never once called to say you couldn't make it. You relied on others to do your dirty work, to keep me, and them (and how many of them are there?), hanging on. How much longer must we wait? How much longer til our beating hearts burst open, baby?

Frankly, it's all enough for me to wonder if it's worth it. For now, I'll wait. We'll wait. And we'll dance til our hearts beat in time to yours.

Corking tune, by the way.