a life mislived
Second entry today. And I wonder if you would sit with me, if I was a beautiful person. Sit with me on a shaded porch between desert and mountains. Let me rub your bare back and kiss a cool region behind your ear. I would keep touching your skin while you tell me about all the clouds and shadows of a life you lived a long time ago, in the dust of second-hand paperbacks and LP's. Please tell me everything before I am dead. I am old, alone, and balding. But I think of you in slow, wine-soaked afternoons. All the dead dogs of my childhood come down from clouds and plateaus to give me news of a life worth living. If I survive the one I currently mislive.