What If I Could Give You Your

I Was In The Black Silence Of A Medieval Street, And Blindly I Followed Its Sharp Turns, Comforted By The Height Of Its Narrow Tenements, Which Seemed At Any Moment Capable Of Falling Together, Closing This Alleyway Under Indifferent Stars Like A Seam.

God, What Is It Like To Be You And Hear All Those People All The Time Everywhere, Begging, Imploring, Calling Out For Anything And Anyone?

Was It Fair To Say I Didn't Know The Full State Of My Soul?

Amazing What The British Do With Language; The Nuances Of Politeness. The World's Great Diplomats, Surely.

In The Spring Of 1988, I Returned To New Orleans, And As Soon As I Smelled The Air, I Knew I Was Home. It Was Rich, Almost Sweet, Like The Scent Of Jasmine And Roses Around Our Old Courtyard. I Walked The Streets, Savoring That Long Lost Perfume.