Sometimes while walking his solitary route, George hurts his foot after kicking a telephone pole. It’s one way to get rid of some mixed-up stuff inside his chest.

You're all I got, George. Yah. True...True. Now get some sleep, OK? Please? How come momma gave us to the Children's Aid, George? I dunno.

I weave crazily towards the gyrating sounds, grasp the radio on the patio table and gleefully walk cherub-faced to the neighbor’s tumbling waterfall.

All the animal would dive for cover as the young monkeys appeared kicking cans, or picking flowers to throw onto the path, or simply shrieking their existence to their barren world of breakables.

competition entre

One mistake can change your life.

To touch mortality, to explore it with splayed fingers and to find it lacking. How can this be?

I love you to distraction, my words they tell you so, but not my actions. You are my goddess, my honeysuckle, the sweet breath of all my days, how to tell you I love you, so many, many ways.