We are not going to the party although we thank you for the invitation.
You have forgotten how we broke your mother’s ivory boat, drank the old, old sherry and rolled in the ornamental grasses.
Tomorrow we will gather in the garden at around 3 o'clock and piss on the roses. This is how we write our romances and teach you to love us the long, unsteady way.
There is nothing for you to understand. It may be that we give you cause to smile or that you find a place for us in the gazette. There are things we are grateful for.
The secret is always in the other hand, the one behind the back. We know what you think you know. This we allow you; a gift for your trembling curiosity.
Please remember, dear heart, frail flower: we will never ever neglect you.