Hollywood at night is either really sad or beautiful. Depends how you look at it; the lights, the sleepers on the ground, girls crying, attractions, guitars, stars, pink dresses, boots, hats, food and drink. Sometimes I drink too much and take a cab home. I will be home soon in bed. I will wake up in six hours. I'll be home in nine minutes. I want fried potatoes. I want food and drink. I saw so many old friends tonight. The driver enters the freeway. This is where I lose service when I talk to my mother. “Call me back,” she says. “I can't hear you well,” she says. Then the line goes. I pop my ears in the mountains, a ritual. Everyone I know is in love. I hear them talk about how the love will never end. They open their mouths wide like the Queen of Hearts. I believe them. I believe them because I am them. We share a human heart. We are holding onto bottles at night, onto car doors, onto doorways, onto each other. We are holding on so tight.