The Price We Paid For

The Moment Had Passed, The Door Between The Lives We Could Have Led And The Lives We Led Had Shut In Our Faces.

Our Kiss Was Niticlimactic. It Wasn't That The Kiss Was Bad, But It Was Just A Note Of Punctuation In Our Long Conversation, A Parenthetical Remark Made In Order To Assure Each Other Of A Deeply Felt Agreement, A Mutual Offer Of Companionship, Which Is So Much More Rare Than Sexual Passion Or Even Love.

I Walked Down My Snow Covered Street. Out Of Habit I Turned And Checked For My Footsteps. When I Arrived At My Building I Looked For My Name On The Buzzers. And Because I Know That Sometimes I See Things That Aren't There, After Dinner I Called Information To Ask If I Was Listed.(25)

That's What I Do. Watch Movies And Read. Sometimes I Even Pretend To Write, But I'm Not Fooling Anyone. Oh, And I Go To The Mailbox.

I Think In The Whole Field Of Questions About What We Take To Be "real," One Of Those Questions Is About The Self. When You Talk About The Self We're Always Talking About Whether It's A Construction And It's A Construction We're Always In The Process Of Working On. I Don't Think That Work Ever Ends, To Some Degree.