Reasons To Survive November (audio only)
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The season turned like the page of a glossy fashion magazine. In the park the daffodils came up and in the parking lot, the new car models were on parade. Sometimes I think that nothing really changes— The young girls show the latest crop of tummies, and the new president proves that he's a dummy. But remember the tennis match we watched that year?
My marriage ended in an airport long ago. I was not wise enough to cry while looking for my car, walking through the underground garage; jets were roaring overhead, and if I had been wise I would have looked up at those heavy-bellied cylinders and seen the wheelchairs and the frightened dogs inside; the kidneys bedded in dry ice and Styrofoam containers. I would have known that in synagogues and churches all over town couples were gathering like flocks of geese getting ready to take off, while here the jets w
Prolonged exposure to death Has made my friend quieter. Now his nose is less like a hatchet And more like a snuffler. Flames don't erupt from his mouth anymore And life doesn't crack his thermometer. Instead of overthrowing the government He reads fly-fishing catalogues And takes photographs of water. An aphorist would say The horns of the steer have grown straighter. He has an older heart that beats younger. His Attila the Hun imitation Is not as good as it used to be. Everything else is better.