I’m sure there’s a thought I want to disperse, not like steam in a pressure cooker, nothing so needful.
I did have this idea that it’d be nice to hear the occasional clop, clop of hooves on the road rather than the insect whine of cars. But that’s no real thought, just a sound image.
And I remembered, too, the dream I had. My aunt Pat was in the room wearing a long nightgown. She wasn’t old or young. Nothing about her body was significant. I asked her, “If I try to hug you, will my hands pass through you?” She said no. So I hugged her. And then I asked after my mother, if she’d seen her. “Oh, Anne, she comes and goes.” she said.
It wasn’t when I suggested to Nick Lowe that he sign the back of my ticket “Friends forever”, I thought I should give up ever trying to be funny.
It wasn’t when Terry suggested I uncork the bottle of wine and, I thought, there is no cork.
And I wasn’t furrowing my brows thinking about Rilke’s line, “You must change your life”, because a person can’t change their life until they change their mind. That’s evident.
There will be no change tonight. That, too, is evident.