A Spinning Coin, Still Balanced On Its

Everybody That Went Away Suffered A Broken Heart. "i'm Coming Back Some Day," They All Wrote. But Never Did. The Old Life Was Too Small To Fit Anymore.

It Takes A Year, Nephew... A Full Turn Of The Calendar, To Get Over Losing Someone.

Walking On The Land Or Digging In The Fine Soil I Am Intensely Aware That Time Quivers Slightly, Changes Occurring In Imperceptible And Minute Ways, Accumulating So Subtly That They Seem Not To Exist. Yet The Tiny Shifts In Everything--cell Replication, The Rain Of Dust Motes, Lengthening Hair, Wind-pushed Rocks--press Inexorably On And On.

If You Can't Fix It, You Have To Stand It.

Ordinary Parties, He Thought, Were Subtle Games Of Sexual And Social Badminton.