All these girls at work, trying to push womanhood away. I watch them do it. Get drunk in front of men and get up on the bar, like in a movie. And fight. Jealousy flaring under their Gap jeans. Will he call me? Why does he care when I talk to other guys? I want to take them outside and stand by the road where the cars shush by. Across the street from the bar is the park. There's an open field where rabbits shiver in the grass, terrified. Being alone clears up everything. You begin to do only for yourself in a way that is completely unselfish. I wish I could explain to them how beautiful it would be if we could cross the street to the park away from the noise of the bar.