To Vik Lovell Who Told Me Dragons

I'd Rather Be A Lightning Rod Than A Seismograph.

Because He Knows You Have To Laugh At The Things That Hurt You Just To Keep Yourself In Balance, Just To Keep The World From Running You Plumb Crazy. He Knows There's A Painful Side; He Knows My Thumb Smarts And His Girlfriend Has A Bruised Breast And The Doctor Is Losing His Glasses, But He Won't Let The Pain Blot Out The Humor No More'n He'll Let The Humor Blot Out The Pain.

We Made Love. How Pedestrian The Words Look-trite, Worn, Practically Featureless With Use-but How Can One Better Describe That Which Happens When It Happens? That Creation? That Magic Blending? I Might Say We Became Figures In A Mesmerized Dance Before The Rocking Talisman Of The Moon, Starting Slow, So Slow... A Pair Of Feathers Drifting Through Clear Liquid Substance Of Sky... Gradually Accelerating, Faster And Faster And Finally Into Photon Existence Of Pure Light... As My Whole Straining Body Burst Like Fluid Electricity Into Hers.

I've Enjoyed Being A Famous Writer-except That Every Once In A While You Have To Write Something.

But, Gee," The Other Nurse Says, "what On Earth Would Make A Man Want To Do Something Like Disrupt The Ward For, Miss Ratched? What Possible Motive...?""you Seem To Forget, Miss Flinn, That This Is An Institution For The Insane.