My Shoes Are Clean From Walking In

And Then We’ll All Go Off To Sweet Life, ‘cause Now Is The Time And We All Know Time!

I Realized These Were All The Snapshots Which Our Children Would Look At Someday With Wonder, Thinking Their Parents Had Lived Smooth, Well-ordered Lives And Got Up In The Morning To Walk Proudly On The Sidewalks Of Life, Never Dreaming The Raggedy Madness And Riot Of Our Actual Lives, Our Actual Night, The Hell Of It, The Senseless Emptiness.

Will You Love Me In December As You Do In May?

There Are Worse Things Than Being Mad.

Sweet Life Continues In The Breeze, In The Golden Fields.