The Price We Paid For The Volumes

I Walked Down My Snow Covered Street. Out Of Habit I Turned And Checked For My Footsteps. When I Arrived At My Building I Looked For My Name On The Buzzers. And Because I Know That Sometimes I See Things That Aren't There, After Dinner I Called Information To Ask If I Was Listed.(25)

Empty Teacups Gathered Around Her And Dictionary Pages Fell At Her Feet.

I Know There Is A Moral To This Story, But I Don't Know What It Is.

Part Of Me Is Made Of Glass, And Also, I Love You.

What Interests Me Very Much As A Writer Is The Ability For Writing To Have Our Lives To Be Occupied So Vividly By Others. I Think That's What We Long For As Writers.