Early morning run in Brooklyn Heights Dreaming of school, Hunter College First film class. A whole new world bursting like a firecracker lit by a couple of kids fooling around on Mott Street just after dusk.
Then came my children And my indulgences And my betrayals
I slow down a little (or perhaps I’m simply slowing down)
I check my pulse. Sixty-two. Not bad after two miles. I feel neither sadness nor guilt It’s just the facts Ma’am.
Life is good now; I’m a better man for being worse. A beautiful bitter irony I guess.
Sometimes I feel that I live in two separate worlds Never quite knowing if my memories Are whispering in my ear Or breathing down my neck.