To Share A Hiding Place, Physical Or

I'm Naive Enough To Think That Love Is Always Good No Matter How Long Ago, No Matter The Circumstances.

When A Man Dies, His Secrets Bond Like Crystals, Like Frost On A Window. His Last Breath Obscures The Glass.

When My Parents Were Liberated, Four Years Before I Was Born, They Found That The Ordinary World Outside The Camp Had Been Eradicated. There Was No More Simple Meal, No Thing Was Less Than Extraordinary: A Fork, A Mattress, A Clean Shirt, A Book. Not To Mention Such Things That Can Make One Weep: An Orange, Meat And Vegetables, Hot Water. There Was No Ordinariness To Return To, No Refuge From The Blinding Potency Of Things, An Apple Screaming Its Sweet Juice.

Hold A Book In Your Hand And You're A Pilgrim At The Gates Of A New City.

If Love Wants You; If You've Been Melted Down To Stars, You Will Love With Lungs And Gills; With Feathers And Scales; With Warm Blood And Cold.