electric thingI'm made of bits of song and paperclipsWhalespeak and stars and a touch of magic.Sprinkled with sugar and a lot more of sea salt,We are never quite empty but never quite whole.It was well-meaning but useless in the end.I have subculture reflected in my eyes and windmills stuck in my teeth.And as the lights go out, all I can say is(With faerie dust on our tongues):"There is sugarcane under my skin and stories under your shoes."I wish it could've been more-we were the story of the year.(If you mean the kind that sits on bookshelves and gathers dust.)You have a map in your pocket. Fifteen dollars and a lifetime;Adventure in your freckles and flutes in your fingertips.I take my mug to my lips and without looking at the script, I add,"Have fun, electric thing."