AT QUARRY FARM
Oh I so mix up the names, all that Middlebush stuff,
the faces, the names and the places. A carnival-like
attraction to detail is not much my stead. I'd rather
watch the wind. I know lots of things, and can
remember an abiding thought or two. Like
Terwilliger and Mark Twain, in Elmira, at old
Quarry Farm - for so many years when I lived
there it was nothing, neglected, unseen and nearly
unremarked. Now, years later, it's a historic shrine,
a paen to madness with nothing maddening ever
said. All those mini-docents, rat-ass kids two years
ago still in school, now working for the Parks Service
and telling me all I never know. As if they do. I want
to run. I want to take hold of Mr. Twain, old Sam
himself, and say - just as was said in 1888,
'same damn fools, Sam, same damn fools.'
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