(I feel obligated to at least try, so here are my notebook scratchings.)
Hey, Miss Beautiful
Can you feel the buzz?
Lithium is lying on your tongue
and you - you are still young,
in a map of painted faces
and the molting wings of grace,
all in this flurry of
the sentimental race
to taste - this bit of stranger things,
to join a world enclosed in danger,
to smash the candles,
burn the manger.
Hey, Miss Beautiful,
you are the lastest buzz.
