Perhaps We Had At Last

Nothing's A Joke With Me. It Just All Comes Out Like One.

Forgiveness Lives Alone And Far Off Down The Road, But Bitterness And Art Are Close, Gossipy Neighbors, Sharing The Same Clothesline, Hanging Out Their Things, Getting Their Laundry Confused.

She Was Afraid, And The Afraid, She Realized, Sought Opportunities For Bravery In Love.

Most Things Good For Writing Are Bad For Life.

For Love To Last, You Had To Have Illusions Or Have No Illusions At All. But You Had To Stick To One Or The Other. It Was The Switching Back And Forth That Endangered Things.