too late

'I lose my self,

I lose my self-control'

Yeah, a bit naff, and a bit too white, but really was one of the songs of the eighties.

for all the beautiful people...

'In an orchard there should be enough to eat, enough to lay up, enough to be stolen, and enough to rot upon the ground'

But your life is totally out of proportions, has nothing of the settled quality to it, is out of sync with the times, with time itself. out of place, from time out of mind. to take a step in the other direction, sidestep the inevitable...the lost ones, of the weary generation, with their fading smiles, like the last light of the winter sun that barely holds its own, that is more warmth than light.

you hesitate, stumble...the stumbling opening up the possibility of grace. lateness-the absence of style, the scrambling to keep useless objects, to 'save' them. You learn how to unclench your fist. Pensive, like a rose with its inner thoughts, shut-off from the world. Petals fall. Touch earth.

This face, traits and quirks of fate passed through the generations, your inherited slowness handed to you like a gift. This proud jewish nose, that is the 'immortal in man' (Hardy, just in case...), that survives.Walk. In a different direction, at your own pace, light slanting at your feet, if truth be told. The opening of the soul in your presence. And absence. You walk, unbound, unloosened, into the warmer air.