a modern moment penned on the subway in five minutes

i wanted to:

• write you a song, but i couldn't remember the lyrics. you know, the ones from your dream where you're singing in my underwear in front of a cast of thousands.
• bake you a cake but the recipe called for caster sugar and i don't know what that is.
• show you the world, but you left before i had the chance to board the train and ask the provodnitsa if she would accept my Orient Express card
• introduce you to the face of God, but She told me that gods don't really have faces. they are merely constructs of the inner workings of Kurt Vonnegut's brain.
• build you a house, but you were looking for a split ranch while i bought the plans for a queen anne.
• tame you an eagle, but raptors were born to fly free. i will try to tame a great blue heron for you instead.
• paint you in acrylics, but all i had were oils. and they were all cerulean blue
• give you my germs, but my N95 kept you safe from contagion.

so all i have left to give is me, which is poor substitute indeed. however, since there is only one of me, at least you know I will become an instant classic that you can trade on eBay for the latest Sega title.