He’s got a gossamer heart, the touchstone
of human experience. No structure. The
various aspects of beauty. We’re meeting at
Quetzal, 6:20 this evening. First time in
years. He’s chatting an awful lot, isn’t he?
Day after a nice Christmas eating sushi,
noises and pretty lights up on a pole –
no more sugar. Of course World War 3
will be with China, so yeah, sure, I read.
And read. It feels good. I drink lots of
water and pay the bills. I go to a bar and look
at everyone. I try on a new sweatshirt.
I walk to the unfamiliar gym. I climb
one flight of stairs, take the elevator
down to the basement, walk the showers
after pool on Polk Street. Dad looks
down at the mountain ice, it comes in
inches. The life of a cobbler. Tiny
matching tractors (a salt & pepper set).
The 19 bus goes by, deposits a couple
onto the glistening sidewalk. As I was saying,
tonight we’re meeting in Shanghai.
