Between A Man And A

Hold Still," My Father Would Say, While I Held The Ship In The Bottle And He Burned Away The Strings He'd Raised The Mast With And Set The Clipper Ship Free On Its Blue Putty Sea. And I Would Wait For Him, Recognizing The Tension Of That Moment When The World In The Bottle Depended, Solely, On Me.

But, He Also Said It Because Part Of Him Wanted More Of Her, This Cold Woman Who Was Not Exactly Cold, This Rock Who Was Not Stone.

I'm Just A Friendly Bystander Who They Occasionally Ask Questions Of. That's My Level Of Involvement.

After Telling The Hard Facts To Anyone From Lover To Friend, I Have Changed In Their Eyes. Often It Is Awe Or Admiration, Sometimes It Is Repulsion, Once Or Twice It Has Been Fury Hurled Directly At Me For Reasons I Remain Unsure Of.

I Loved The Way The Burned-out Flashcubes Of The Kodak Instamatic Marked A Moment That Had Passed, One That Would Now Be Gone Forever Except For A Picture.