She's in my head.  Floating and phantasmal.  Far out of reach and
ever so elusive.  Her traits drawn from those I know.  Sometimes one,
sometimes another, whichever girl strikes me at the moment.  And in my
dreams she loves me.  My dreams may be the only place I will ever find
her, her who loves me.  And even there she sometimes stays beyond my
heart.  Singing and laughing and she comes up to me for a hug.  And she
changes once again, from one to another to another.  Mostly someone close
to me and now and again simply a figure from passing.  She has had blonde
hair, a brunette and redhead in turn.  She has been tall and short, thin
and curvaceous in moments. But always, always she has held me close at
night, dulling the razor's edge of loneliness that holds me bound and
gagged.

G. Matthew King; 3/9/98