Everybodys Got Their Own Situation And Their

He Says When Your Grandmother Died Your Mother Cried Solidly For A Week, Solidly. She Was Crying With Relief He Says, It Was Like As If A Door Had Been Unlocked And She'd Been Let Outside, She Said To Me I'm Safe Now. He Waits, And He Says This Kid, When It's Born, You Mustn't Ever Let It Think It's Anything Other Than A Gift And A Blessing, Do You Hear Me?

It Is Something I Recognise In Myself. I Do Eavesdrop. I Do People-watch, A Lot.

I Say Too Much Of What, He Says Too Much Of Everything, Too Much Stuff, Too Many Places, Too Much Information, Too Many People, Too Much Of Things For There To Be Too Much Of, There Is Too Much To Know And I Don't Know Where To Begin But I Want To Try.

There Are Only These: Sparkling Eyes, Smudged Lipstick, Fading Starlight, The Crunching Of Feet On Gravel, Laughter, And A Slow Walk Home.

I Once Saw A Picture In The Paper Of John Hegley With 'poet' Written On His Knuckles, And I Thought That Was Pretty Cool, So I Was Quite Up Front About It.