This Was What Happiness Felt Like -

And Still The Brain Continues To Yearn, Continues To Burn, Foolishly, With Desire. My Old Man's Brain Is Mocked By A Body That Still Longs To Stretch In The Sun And Form A Beautiful Shape In Someone Else's Gaze, To Lie Under A Blue Sky And Dream Of Helpless, Selfless Love, To Behold Itself, Illuminated, In The Golden Light Of Another's Eyes.

I'm A Century Old, An Impossible Age, And My Brain Has No Anchor In The Present. Instead It Drifts, Nearly Always To The Same Shore. Today, As Most Days, It Is 1962. The Year I Discovered Love.

Things Happen And Once They Start Happening You Pretty Much Just To Hold On For Dear Life And See Where They Drop You When They Stop.

The Soldier Had Stamped My Passport Family In Heavy Black Capital Letters And I Checked It Now For Reassurance And Because I Liked How Fierce The Word Looked

Such A Courageous Boy I Was. To Act Brazenly Under Scrutiny And Risk Further Injury To My Wounded Heart. Ah, The Resilience, The Blind, Dumb Persistence Of Youth.