When The Beer Is Gone, So Are

I Meet A Person, And In My Mind I'm Saying Three Minutes; I Give You Three Minutes To Show Me The Spark.

I Think You Would Like Warren. He Drinks Courvoisier In A Coke Can, And Has A Laugh Like You'd Find In A Cartoon Bubble.

I Know That Homes Burn And That You Should Think What To Save Before They Start To. Not Because, In The Heat Of It, Everything Looks As Valuable As Everything Else. But, Because Nothing Looks Worth The Bother, Not Even Your Life.

I Know When A Story Is Finished When There Is Not A Single Thing More I Can Think To Do To It. And Since I Know At The Start What The Last Line Will Be, I Know When I've Reached That Point As Logically As I Can That It's Finished. As For The Rewriting-it's Not Foolproof, Of Course, But If You're Honest About Having Thought Of Every Possibility And You Still Come Back To What You Have, What More Can You Do?

Maybe This Is Not A Come-down-from-the-ledge Story. But I Tell It With The Thought That The Woman On The Ledge Will Ask Herself A Question, The Question That Occurred To That Man In Bogota. He Wondered How We Know That What Happens To Us Isn't Good?