Just cannot shake the misguided stylings of a fool who keeps believing Lucy, taking another run at that football only to have her tear it away at the last second and laugh as the inevitable pratfall ensues. My Lucy is a man who can hook my insides with a word and I, ever the fool, swoon and land on my ass. too old to play like this but not quite ready to give up on the swoon. it just feels so damn good, just for a moment, to remember what it was like to be enthralled. I confess that I am a fool.