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PURCHASE THE DIGITAL COLLECTION (2013)
Mae West (b. Mary Jane West)
B. 8.17.1893 Brooklyn / D. 11.22.1980 Beverly Hills
A snort of indignation from the cat (Max) greets me on the futon where I go to note the first firefly of the year. Somewhat early? I aim a few kicks at the sandpile on the bottom of my five-year hourglass, dislodging veils of drift like powdered skin—
last summer; memories of
fireflies; sightings of
alone on the back steps, staring at the yard; in June
cross-reference with July: Has another cusp slipped? Is nature rushing? Do I detect the hazy outlines of a tightening spiral?
Dear me—spooked by a firefly. Guess it doesn’t take much these days.
Consolation Site: What will they think of next?
The nature of the reconciliation which has led me back to Murray Hill and the deepest surviving bosom of the lesbian Everest expedition team—adjectives to describe:
I disagree. Just moments in fact before the key embrace a word came into my head. . .“professionalism.” Both sides impressed me.
minor, then—in the sense of “unarresting”—
strange but perfectly true. Is my love-brain only a cinder—is that it? Burnt out—and far across the stump-field leans the blackened fact that the last and the last but one fed on air;
which in itself—that is, through the pangs—manifests in the viscera: close enough to raise another spark.
Yes back to basics—to a relief palpably mutual. A regular bucket brigade. . .
: back : / : forth :