did I ever tell you about those times
I practiced kissing my pillow,
and how I would turn it over to the cool side
to pretend I was kissing someone outside
Back then, I didn't know about you,
but when I look back
and think about my pillow case's satin piping
and how it felt both dry and soft
against my fervid lips,
it all comes to a bright, shining point of clarity:
all of this was for you.
Those fervid lips, I tell you,
they were in the throes of a deep need
only a twelve-year-old girl
and Fate can understand,
a need that would have a pillow in 1985
retroactively named Ed
to marry fate to fate,
a kiss's ultimate beginning with its inevitable end
with one whose lips would finally meet them, too,
twenty-five years later,
I think we both know destiny when we see it.
you are rich as Egyptian cotton.
you are the cool side of my pillow.
Ed Norton, Ed Norton,
oh, Ed Norton,
you are my 600 thread count man.