I Do The Same Things I Did

Ask Her What She Craved, And She'd Get A Little Frantic About Things Like Books, The Woods, Music. Plants And The Seasons. Also Freedom.

The Sixties Were Different In An Isolated Place. We Got Two Television Channels If The Wind Was Blowing In The Right Direction. The Radio Stations Went Off At Sundown. Then You Picked Up Chicago And Heard The Teenage Music You Really Yearned For.

She Always Carried A Book, Though, In Case She Needed To Read A Few Pages To Avoid Unwanted Conversation.

No Looking Back. Life Goes One Way Only, And Whatever Opinions You Hold About The Past Having Nothing To Do With Anything But Your Own Damn Weakness. Nothing Changes What Already Happened. It Will Always Have Happened. You Either Let It Break You Down Or You Don't.

But I Believe The Words Entered Me And Changed Me And Still Work In Me. The Words Eat Me And Sustain Me. And When I'm Dead And In A Box In The Dark Dark Ground, And All My Various Souls Have Died And I Am Nothing But Insensible Bones, Something In The Marrow Will Still Feel Yearning, Desire Persisting Beyond Flesh.