In honor of beautiful women

If I weren't myself and I was reading this blog, I would start to wonder if I'd turned into an espresso-drinking yuppie that lives in suburbia. And maybe I am, maybe I always have been. Word, I'm not from the street and I never claimed to be. I have brilliant red cardinals in my garden. I've always made a cushion to fall on. Yet I've slept on more dirty floors than the average person, without complaint. If my life is pretty now its only because there's a pretty woman in it.