I Like Men Who Have Known The

Dresscodes Are For Styleless People.

Your Parents Are The Parents You Know Best. Your Brother And Sister, If You Have Them, Are The Brother And Sister You Know Best. They May Not Be The Ones You Like The Best. They May Not Be The Most Interesting, But They Are The Closest And Probably The Clearest To You.

Age Doesn't Arrive Slowly, It Comes In A Rush. One Day Nothing Has Changed, A Week Later, Everything Has. A Week May Be Too Long A Time, It Can Happen Overnight. You Are The Same And Still The Same And Suddenly One Morning Two Distinct Lines, Ineradicable, Have Appeared At The Corners Of Your Mouth.

Of Them All, It Was The True Love. Of Them All, It Was The Best. That Other Sumptuous Love Which Made One Drunk, Which One Longed For, Envied, Believed In, That Was Not Life. It Was What Life Was Seeking; It Was A Suspension Of Life. But To Be Close To A Child, For Whom One Spent Everything, Whose Life Was Protected And Nourished By One's Own, To Have That Child Beside One, At Peace, Was The Real, The Deepest, The Only Joy.

We Dash The Black River, Its Flats Smooth As Stone. Not A Ship, Not A Dinghy, Not One Cry Of White. The Water Lies Broken, Cracked From The Wind. This Great Estuary Is Wide, Endless. The River Is Brackish, Blue With The Cold. It Passes Beneath Us Blurring. The Sea Birds Hang Above It, They Wheel, Disappear. We Flash The Wide River, A Dream Of The Past. The Deeps Fall Behind, The Bottom Is Paling The Surface, We Rush By The Shallows, Boats Beached For Winter, Desolate Piers. And On Wings Like The Gulls, Soar Up, Turn, Look Back.