I Am Influenced By Words And The

Their Silence Comfortable. Something Unfolding. But What? Not Love, Which Wrenched And Wounded. Not Love, Which Came Only Once.

I Wish I Knew How To Quit You.

Was Love Then Like A Bag Of Assorted Sweets Passed Around From Which One Might Choose More Than Once? Some Might Sting The Tongue, Some Invoke Night Perfume. Some Had Centers As Bitter As Gall, Some Blended Honey And Poison, Some Were Quickly Swallowed. And Among The Common Bull's-eyes And Peppermints A Few Rare Ones; One Or Two With Deadly Needles At The Heart, Another That Brought Clam And Gentle Pleasure. Were His Fingers Closing On That One?

And I Think That's Important, To Know How The Water's Gone Over The Dam Before You Start To Describe It. It Helps To Have Been Over The Dam Yourself.

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.