“If we’re lucky, we feel our lives
know when the next scene arrives -
so, often, we start in the middle
and work our way out.
We go to some grey sky diner for eggs and toast,
New York Times or the New York Post,
then we take a ride through
the valley of the shadow of death.
Where and when does the memory take hold?
Mountain range in the Autumn cold…
and I thought West Point was Camelot in the spring.
If you’re lucky,
you’ll find something that reflects you,
helps you feel your life protects you,
cradles you and connects you to everything.
This whole life I remember
as I begged my heart itself:
Please, never turn me into someone else.”
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