This was written during the autumn of 1988.
At times over the past several years, I’ve attempted to square up the rounded corners of my life, to clean up the accumulation of broken, dead limbs in the yard, the coating of dust on the top of the door that never gets wiped off.
I naively expect that it is possible for the stuff of life and living to come to absolute zero, square one, all in one box and neatly tied, thank you. Every now and then I want to begin the next phase of life sitting behind the straight, tidy desk I’ve seen only in pictures.
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