"Meanwhile it is almost March here in the bay, and finally snow has come, too.
as I get older, I like waiting
this phenomenon that had once leaped out at me, a chimerical world
the image of another person who had once been close to me
this man had been a reader for years
he enjoyed life every day, especially the parts without deep significance
with his immortality on the horizon
Whom have I ever needed?
and instead I took refuge in my writing
learned from me to go walking
Yet I was not leading a double life, but rather a two-fold one, each part in harmony with the other
Since I was someone to whom people confessed things, I knew the most secret lives of many
he seized me around the midsection, hoisted me in the air
but he was not my angel, not then, not since
always taken refuge in such sheltering images
No, for now I am not going home
a labyrinth with no way out
dreaming in times in almost unmutilated forms
a readiness for fallings-out
a bright surge of feelings
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