I wake up like a stray dog belonging to no one. Cold, cold, and the rain. Friendships outgrown or ruined. And love, dear God, the women I have loved now only names remembered: dead, lost, or old. Mildness more and more the danger. Living among the rocks and weeds to guard against wisdom. Alone with the heart howling and refusing to let it feed on mere affection. Lying in the dark, singing about the intractable kinds of happiness.
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