give me

turquoise wooden shutters, songs that people send you, red bell peppers, wigs that sit funny on your head, water-soluble oil pastels, scraps of paper found in the street, little feathers, dewy post-shower skin, polaroid cameras, fake-out karate moves, juicy strawberries as big as your head, junior mints, old school hip hop, french accents, sidewalk chalk, guerilla art, skirts full of swish, books that have to be read in one sitting or else you think you might die, cold water when you're really really thirsty, the hands of that hot guy I married, bowling alleys, crazy swirly straws, handwritten love notes, pink radios, clunky dr. scholl sandals, five minutes of quiet, stories that have to be told in the dark, friends that listen to you go on and on and on and on and on and still love you, voices that make you think of sugar and gravel, great lash mascara in brownish-black, people that kick the lyrical windmills, aprons over jeans, words like 'illuminate' and 'verisimilitude', words like 'languid', giant bubble wands made from old metal hangers, toes painted bright pink, doors painted bright orange, the grace of God, the grace of God, the grace of God.