There are so many things I don’t understand, I could never name just one. Today was partly cloudy, with a mix of sun and rain; showers in the afternoon gave way to moonlight softly emanating from a yellow moon. For a thousand nights or more I have slept with only my dreams, and most of these are lost like time down the long corridor of days. Do I live other lives besides this one? If not, I should pause longer by the window like a TV screen tuned to passing planes
and apartment high rises and the river of traffic running down the freeway at night. I should stand taller and touch strangers and tell more stories with my hands. I should walk the miles in the dark to your house and try to tell you something that is not beautiful, for a change, but necessary; and if I fail then that too would be part of the message: that failure is just another way to discover where I end and the world begins, mysterious and partly cloudy; that is to say, necessary -- whether or not our lives are elliptical,
whether or not you let me in.