Half A Page--and The Morning Is Already

He Walked Out Of The Hospital Into The Sun, Into Open Air For The First Time In Months, Out Of The Green-lit Rooms That Lay Like Glass In His Mind. He Stood There Breathing Everything In, The Hurry Of Everyone. First, He Thought, I Need Shoes With Rubber On The Bottom. I Need Gelato.

But We Were Interested In How Our Lives Could Mean Something To The Past. We Sailed Into The Past.

Her Life With Others No Longer Interests Him. He Wants Only Her Stalking Beauty, Her Theatre Of Expressions. He Wants The Minute Secret Reflection Between Them, The Depth Of Field Minimal, Their Foreignness Intimate Like Two Pages Of A Closed Book.

We All Have An Old Knot In The Heart We Wish To Untie.

To Write About Someone Like Myself Would Be Very Limiting.