daphne under a parasol points me to the rain first kiss derailment haunts me no jagged tides just champagne coursing through my mind...

In the winter-time We have to listen more often to the refrigerator and its fuzzy white freon drone that blunts the sterile silence of the cold-floored kitchen as it locks the steamy veggies in a hoar-frost sleep...

I should have stayed in bed that morning is what I should have done; but instead, Theresa and I ran away to get married, me saying, "Hey, Theresa," from a phone booth at seven-thirty that morning, "I've packed my duffle bag and I'm at BeDel's and if you want to get married, you'd better come over here, quick," and Theresa is saying, "You're crazy, do you know that —you are crazy," but slamming down the receiver and rounding the corner of Eggert Road and Northbriar, wheels whining, a few minutes later...