Monday, March 31, 2008

Yet Again

But sometimes, if you are young enough, if you are lucky enough again to start over, to do it all once more, all of it, there is the pleasure, the pain.  

How can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics?
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms!

W.B. Yeats, "Politics"

We are in Manhattan still, again. Glorious days, fantastic nights.

Here at the Oak Bar.

1 comment:

  1. Look how in love huh?

    I'm tired. I want to just be somewhere. I want to talk to someone who is interesting and intellectual and makes me laugh. I want to belong to someone again.

    But I'm picky -

    my heart like that fire in the painting I sent you. That's how I like it. Burning. Burnt. But also the water, the ointment and the bandages. I want to be everything for someone again. It's horrible to know - isn't it - how good it can be.

    That's a good photo. I'm sure Q loves it. He's nutso about her. Well. I think so. I make up a lot of stuff in my head - as you know. But I think he's mad about her.

    Hump Day. I barely participated in Day 4 of the 90th Birthday celebration. Work was long and hard. I had one cocktail - some smoke with my sister in law to celebrate 420 - and then I came home - commented on some poems - hoped to write - didn't and passed out.

    Seems like you had a good time in NYC during these photos.

    I'm still having Foot issues. :(.

    I remember when we texted a lot.