I think we met at a grown-up party; my dad and her dad were friends. We ran off and made our own fun, I distinctly remember what I said. “Hi, my name is Louie and what is yours, my dear? You are everything and anything. Oh darling, your eyes look like danger.” Lola dear, I need you more. Kiss me here while the rain falls. We could throw parties and grow old together and fight and yell and scream and be mad at each other. Then, when we wake up and bite on the bullet, we’ll taste last night’s ammo every time we talk. I want you to annoy the shit out of me, I want us to be passionate and stupidly in love and I want you for the rest of my life. I’ll go outside and light up a cigarette. You stay inside and paint me a portrait. I love our own little West Coast scenario and I fucking love you, I’m not afraid to say. What else is there anyway? Oh darling, what else is there anyway?