Everyone Has A Moment In History Which

The Scornful Force Of His Tone Turned The Word Into A Curse

I Knew That Part Of Friendship Consisted In Accepting A Friend’s Shortcomings, Which Sometimes Included His Parents.

I Began To Know That Each Morning Reasserted The Problems Of Night Before, That Sleep Suspended All But Changed Nothing, That You Couldn’t Make Yourself Over Between Dawn And Dusk.

There Was No Harm In Taking Aim, Even If The Target Was A Dream.

Nothing Endures. Not A Tree. Not Love. Not Even Death By Violence.