I love my world, I hate my world

Walking home today I saw an old Jamacian woman brushing her teeth in a styrofoam cup from 7-11 on the sidewalk, the perfect scene after having an overpriced lunch at Neiman Marcus with the blue-hairs and perfectly cropped gay men. “Write about your own time son.” I walked into my apartment only to hear “Crow Jane”

and “The Gift.” Then I heard a story about how an ‘older’ couple I know, one from Venezuala and the other from Spain and how they met in Manhattan. And I know their love for each other is so true. I’ve seen them walk home together night after night together telling each other secrets and sweet words that only lovers can hear. I had to whipe a tear from my eye at the bar and walk outside. It filled my heart with such joy and pain. I love you all… I hate you all. Where is my orion. My arrow, toight. The wind is in from Africa this evening, blowing across the Atlantic. Dylan is singing “The Wedding Song.” Which did he write first, “Dirge” or “Wedding Song?” It’s the same song. All I do is cry, even when I don’t cry. And I can’t even get a good song out of it.