Joined at the hip makes some walking difficult, but walking slow resolves the issue. And if I bend this way, and you bend that way, our bending bodies can curve around the problems the rest of the world crashes into. But I look into the eyes of every stranger passing, feel their broken parts and wonder how they got there; how many pieces have I unknowingly broken this day? The pretty ones, they hug and laugh, intertwining in a tangle 'you single people' wouldn't understand and what 'you taken ones' don't always comprehend. You're comfortable with what you have and if time ticks on, you're certain it will take you along too. You 'lazy ones' don't get it. And the 'busy bees' don't see; if there's time for him or her, 'there's also time for me'. The future will be waiting; it's always one step ahead, so if we stumble we'll catch up somehow, perhaps just years behind. And if we have to run and should you fall, I'll help you off the ground; I'll take your hand and lift you up--I hope we don't lose touch. We 'getting organized' now and as we scrub away the details of preperation, I hope the soap isn't too slippery, because I'd hate to slip, or see you trip, or have one of us slide away. There's no reason why down the road, we can't all be this way. A part of me really wants to know, are we the same as 8 months ago? When the doors first opened and all was new, are we just the same, or have we changed too? I suppose that's the part of growing up we'll have to accept and get used to, along with waving slow good-byes--there's still time, so dry your eyes. All I ask is that weeks from now, you still call me up. And once a week we'll get together, see a flick or spend our voices, holding together the line--staying in step with one another--so not one of us gets disconnected; ever. Carrie in non-coherent thoughts at 1am.