In my life I’ve gathered maybe five perfect rocks. It isn’t that they were smooth or handsomely speckled with rare minerals. No, they were often misshapen, pitted, easily forgettable.
A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke.
If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
At a certain age I re-aimed that telescope, first, to look into the window of the young widow across the street, she who made me feel atomic.
I grew up in Texas beef country down the street from a world-famous barbecue stand. I didn’t become a vegan until I was 54 years old. I probably have been responsible, at least in part, for the death of 10,000 animals. It’s never too late to change your life.