CAN'T STOP ME
TO BAKERSFIELD
I am charmed; but you can't take me
past Wallingford, and you can't stop
me to Bakersfield. None of this makes
storybook sense, but that's only because
of my pencil-moustache-policeman father.
We ate sandwiches at the wharf, talking
this through the whole time there. I said
I wanted a house in the Berkshires. My
father nodded, but went his own way.
In fact, he left me with the bill.
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