I do so love to dance. I feel obligated to tell you that I fall at least half in love with every boy I have ever danced with. I think you should know that before I hold your hand again darling, because you mustn’t mistake the way I move my feet for anything but love letters. I’d burn my feet for you on the asphalt darling, I just promise I would, get black tar in between my toes that wouldn’t come off for weeks and weeks and weeks. You simply must have noticed the way I danced in front of you on the sidewalk, and you just have to understand, you really just have to. I couldn’t hold your hand because I just had to dance, and I simply believe you must have known what that meant.
I’m forever getting a song stuck in my head darling. I’m a fool when it comes to singing, I’ll sing just about anywhere, I haven’t got any manners and you really will have to teach me which fork to use. I’m just so bad, I’ve got no manners at all. One time I said pussy in front of my great aunt and I wasn’t talking about cats, that’s the truth. But with the music, it gets awful bad when I care about someone an awful lot, singing and dancing and humming while I try and brush my very, very back teeth. Drives my daddy crazy, he says ladies don’t do that.
I’ve positively always got a song stuck in my head. Except, you know, every now and then, I’ll get just a few regular words stuck in my head that I suppose I’ve made my own music too. Just like the other day. Usually whenever I dance with someone, I’ll play that song over and over, my eyes rolling back in my head to hit repeat, fluttering my eyelashes so prettily. But the other night, what did you say? Do you remember? You said, “The czar, sweetheart, the czar, the czar had illusions of grandeur.” And then you kissed me and I hope I tasted quite alright because I had honestly forgotten to sing a song, not even one, while brushing my teeth that night.
But I’m brushing them for you now, darling. Oh dear, I’m brushing them, and all I can hear is you saying, illusions of grandeur, illusions of grandeur, the czar had illusions of grandeur. Don’t you think that would sound absolutely divine with an accordion? I am hopeless for you darling, and I suppose what I’m trying to get at is that I do simply love having you stuck in my head.
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