This bright frosty morning,
the world smells like
a million lonely breakfasts.
Recently Banned Literature, November 16, 2008
Not a Romance, 1974
When I was hanging around at the college, there was a girl with very long hair and pale white skin. We met in passing many times, but we never spoke. She was beautiful in a simple way, like clean sheets drying on a clothesline beside a garden where tomatoes are getting ripe.
I have no idea what she thought of me. She might have wondered what I meant by having so many patches on my jeans. One of them even looked like a face. Had she asked, I don’t know what I would have said. But she didn’t ask. Instead, she always seemed ready to smile, as if the idea of something pleasant had suggested itself in her mind and would soon turn into a flower, or perhaps a ripe apple or a bird.
Then one day I never saw her again. But I don’t know if she vanished from my life, or if I vanished from hers, or both. It all depends on whether or not she remembers me, I guess. She’s probably a grandmother with short gray hair by now. Ah, if those beautiful little babies only knew.
Songs and Letters, January 4, 2008.
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