I just want you to be someone else dressed in your skin complete with your own history looking with your eyes but seeing things differently Commanding your tongue to utter different words your neurons setting ablaze different ideas I wish I could gently unzip the bodybag of your body and give it to someone else my Perfect Man because he has no home My mind is a claustrophobic cage in which to dwell and when he presses his wide, kind hands palm-flat against the glass, it is hard for me not to want to help him