Thursday, March 2, 2017


"And, yes, just like that; been an admirer
of yours for years and though we never 
spoke I'd often go over my lines. It would
always remind me of being a kid again,
back in 11th grade when I had roles
in school plays  - memory and rote,
knowing what to say. All that  stuff
is so important when the stage lights
are on. But, no matter, we never spoke.
Before today, that is, and now I'm glad it's
you. You look a bit different than I'd expected.
But so what, what matter is that? I don't care.
Vampire blue-bloods and wild forest animals,
when they finally meet, never respond to
how they look. As e. e. cummings put it
once : "myself, walking in Dragon st.
one fine fine day August night, i just
happened to me 'how do you so' she
smiling said 'thought you were earning
your living or probably dead' so Jones
was murdered by a man named Smith
and we sail on the Leviathan."
I'm not sure, of course, that gets it
across at all, what I'm meaning to say.
But it will have to do. One day, another
time, I remember, in a car, stopping at some
guys house I never knew, just because he
lived in a small house my wife's uncle
once lived in. We'd often visited; he lived
right there at Deal Beach  -  in a seaside
cottage, though not at the sea, which was
about fifteen blocks off. No matter. The
guy was outside, and came over to talk.
It was all a long time ago. We told him
what was up, and he asked what I remembered.
Well, all I could think to say was, 'The streets
in April turn young with rain.' At that we
shook hands, and he walked away."

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