For nice to meet you.
I met you a long time ago
But tonight I didn’t even get to shake your hand.
I only saw your hair over the many heads. It’s good you have fans.
My mother-in-law had told me a new Jarmusch picture was one to look for. Her name happens to be Patty Patterson but she didn’t tell me anything about it. She just said there was a new Jarmusch picture to look for.
I just happened to be walking past a movie house and picked whatever was just about to start, knowing nothing about it, because that is my favorite way to see a movie. I had no idea this was the one. Much less was I aware you would be there.
I wanted to ask you, was that a whippoorwill on Sunday morning? I wanted to ask, did the wristwatch whip through the fourth dimension in post or in camera?
A week ago I let go of a bunch of old books. It was just some Djuna Barnes, TS Eliot, some other stuff, some Rilke, Rimbaud, Rumi, stuff and more stuff and some Yeats. I figured, since they were published works, they had copies. I also quickly and finally threw out my unpublished uncopied originals for different reasons. Moving back into the city was the main reason for everything.
The next day I went to the Strand and replaced the Yeats. My wife just happened to mention that morning it would be nice to have, if not for Christmas, perhaps for Valentine’s Day.
Tonight I watched the credits to the end. Hey, I saw the dog died. I’m sorry for your loss.