WE HAVE THE DISTANCE
We could have moved to England a long time
ago : Wordsworth, Swinging London, Tintern
Abbey, Wales and the rest. Mary Quant and
Carnaby Street. My Anglia would have driven
us nicely over the heath. And then those
fearsome memories of the war stepped in.
-
'Which war?' I heard you say. It's the kind
of talk that passes for idle here. Now far
above us, in the black, dark night, those
stars are twinkling as they burn. Do they
burn? Are we burning out with them?
-
How distant are these distant skies?
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