Paper Is A Uniquely Beautiful Format, More

Because I Grew Up With This Naive Expectation Of People Doing Right, I Get Shocked By Every Little Violation.

There Is Travel And There Are Babies; Everything Else Is Drudgery And Death.

Up There We See Everything, Oakland To The Left, El Cerrito And Richmond To The Right, Marin Forward, Over The Bay, Berkeley Below, All Red Rooftops And Trees Of Cauliflower And Columbine, Shaped Like Rockets And Explosions, All Those People Below Us, With Humbler Views; We See The Bay Bridge, Clunkety, The Richmond Bridge, Straight, Low, The Golden Gate, Red Toothpicks And String, The Blue Between, The Blue Above, The Gleaming White Land Of The Lost/superman's North Pole Getaway Magic Crystals That Are San Francisco.

Maybe He Hadn't Thought The War Through. It Had Seemed Like Simple Fun When He Had First Pictured It, With A Glorious Beginning, A Difficult But Valor-filled Middle, And A Victorious End. He Hadn't Accounted For The Fact That There Might Not Be Much Of A Resolution To The Battle, And He Hadn't Imagined What It Would Feel Like When The War Just Sort Of Ended, Without Anyone Admitting Defeat And Congratulating Him For His Bravery.

The Pain Is Not Great. But The Symbolism Is Disagreeable.