"I'll find you and I'll kill you"...the tendency is to be drawn to the cemetery not the church...to the church not the store...to the grave not the cradle...and the tendency is to remember the dead houseflies on the orangy-yellow fly-paper hanging from the water-stained tile ceiling...
at the cottage...
the beautiful warm breeze drifting through the porch and the tendency is for solitude, at the beach, that morning...i must have been nine or ten...melancholic...awake early before my brothers and sister...the walk down the lane to the beach...the red sand, low tide beach...to dig clams by myself...the need for solitude...peace in solitude...the play of loneliness with peacefulness...lonely and happy, happy to be lonely, sad to be lonely, alone in the bitter sweet game of when is it all over?
show me what it is to have passed...to rest...sleep...take my body...give me peace...return me to mineral...not yet...
"and i thought you were the moon in the sky but it turned out you were just a street light..."
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