Your face is a salty teardrop. Not the graceful slow rolling down the side of your cheek kind but the blotchy and swollen hiccuping on your breath that is only sometimes fun to see on grade-schoolers. And I don't think that you are the prettiest thing I have ever seen when you say oh hey with your sunglasses pushed up to keep your hair from getting wet when you walk back from the showers and you smile at me just a little.
So when you see me singing when I see you it's only because lately I've grown tired of always whistling, just so we're clear.
