A streetcar named desire

It's always when I'm driving my car. My beautiful car, because I don't care about cars. But there's a D in my car.

I'm driving throughout the city. I've got nowhere to go. And you, where are you where have you been? Wait - did I just pass by desire street?

By the way, I don't like plays, I didn't take that "drama class" back in college, I was so proud of me for not taking it, though I've read a few plays. By the way, my favorite play is Waiting for Godot, oh, and The Glass Menagerie. And any and all by Oscar Wilde because it's Oscar Wilde, who was born on the same day as my mom - I've always knew that even when I wasn't aware of it.

By the way, I don't like plays. I was sorry for that girl who once went to a Shakespeare play which took place right in front of the Old Main depending on where you were. I mean, who cares if you want to go to plays when I don't even like reading Shakespeare?

A streetcar takes me to a place called desire. It's where you are. Where have you been?

A streetcar named desire lives inside my heart and therefore it beats faster. Last Saturday this Professor asked me "in what language do you write", and I was stuck in my mind. I can't say; I only write.

A streetcar named desire takes all writing to you. (Oh, they all lead to you in the end). Because my writings are the breaths of my heart. But some times they're nothing. It's all true, but not always accurate. It's drama, so I play. 

By the way, I don't like plays. But I like your name: like a streetcar, it's named "desire".