I felt so tragic Today on Google Maps just Circling the block and seeing where we met I was making such progress Now there's new stuff to process Seems like it's an imperfect art Hope it doesn't fall apart Falling out my body Decade later, oddly Clinging to the poles Break it in half, it's whole Judy says I'm Trini to the bone Over the phone We're both dancing alone Make a list in an iPhone note Look at it when I'm feeling low But I'd rather write a poem I think everything's a cult Sometimes you just have to laugh At the facts