Monday, March 26, 2007
A Cartoonish Sunset
Miss Light, run, run! The steamroller is chugging and you may be crushed flat. I would hate to lose you; you make me whole again in the morning over pancakes. My darling, my sensei, do not run in a straight line; do not head for that hill on the horizon. We are all dying – you carry in your backpack our last notebook of hope. I love you like a schoolboy staring out the window. Please, make like the wind and live a little, for heaven’s sake.