Where is the middle ground between my loving altogether in the whole sense

and walking an ascetic life?

It’s no accident gurus and crones are long in the tooth

It takes decades to learn anything in this life

Anything that is worth a damn, anyway

Those of us who claim to be forever youthful and therefore excused from

learning lessons and little grievings of maturity, mortality

whistle through the day with a jaunty tip of the cap and a nod in toasting

We, the orphaned children of Pan, we winking curmudgeons,

for us, there is no middle ground for anything

and I’m fucking grateful for that


If I were to tell you that my heart was putty in your hands

would you mold it to fit yours?

Or would you mash it flat, pound it into the table

drop it on the ground to pick up all the detritus

you walked through before?

If I were to tell you that I don’t know if I can get close

would you live and let live, trusting that I  will find my way home?

Or would you get angry that you cannot possess all of me at once

On your terms?

Perhaps, spring is coming after all. Today feels like a ood day. It’s pretty cold, and my agenda has two items: grocery store, haircut.

But something, something indefinable is in the air.

I like it, whatever ‘it’ is. I think that Jane might feel it, too. I asked her if she wanted to go to the store and she said yes. Mind you, she will stay in the car and it cuts down on my dilly-dallying, but having her get out in the sun is an improvement.