“My favorite song right now is “St. Robinson and his Cadillac Dream.” Staring out my window I see Cadillacs sailing! I keep thinking tomorrow is coming today. Perhaps it’s because I dream of ballerinas. Yes that’s it, I’m looking for a ballerina. There is a gurl in the basement that stays in her shell because I let it so. I am different without a doubt. You might think so, or you might think I see things differently, but that could not be any further from the truth. What I see is there. I just see things that others didn’t, or others don’t. What does that make me? Where is that ballerina? I am looking for a gurl that looks in the mirror and spins and spins and spins. My ballerina. I guess it brings fond memories of my daughter. You see she took dance classes from the time she was 2 years old. As she grew, she couldn’t keep still as she fluidly moved about the house like a ballerina of a modern machine. She hates me today and she has hated me for 14 years and tick, tock, tick, tock, tick tock. Can you picture her? Maureen “was” her name! She has all become only a dream and a distant memory that no parent should have to endure. There is a hole in the ceiling… There’s a hole in my soul… Now what do I do? I might not go to heaven, but I sure as hell hope you do. This may all be allusionary, illusionary, exclusionary, extraordinary, luminary, disciplinary, imaginary, your ordinary urinary is all it is… and your point? The lyrics are twisted and esoteric, but then I am “St. Wyatt and his Cadillac Dream.” You know you may not think that clouds kiss. Well let me tell you I witnessed them kissing yesterday. They moved… they changed and they are no longer kissing. Imagine that? Clouds are never quite what they seem! Clouds change with ease, but why is it so hard for me? Who moved my cheese? Who moved my stinkin cheese?” Wyatt