He’s a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine. And when they start not smiling back–that’s an earthquake. And then you get a couple of spots on your hat, and you’re finished.

Most of the time now we settle for half and I like it better. But the truth is holy, and even as I known how wrong he was, and his death useless, I tremble, for I confess that something perversely pure calls to me from his memory- not purely good, but himself purely, for he allowed himself to be wholly known and for that I think I will love him more than all my sensible clients. And yet, it is better to settle for half, it must be! And so I mourn him- I admit -with a certain… alarm.

1 2 3