Why should I care, much less know? In the stores near Christmas with my daughter, briefly lonely in the jewelry aisle, but also understanding we are here to learn to love. Imagine steering by starlight. My father's headstone in winter, a useless symbol, yet here I am dissembling it. Chrisoula and I give each other head, come together and don't talk after, my gift to her. Water boiling for tea, a couple of the neighbor's chickens poking around the back porch. Appetite is what has no end. Clementines, good chocolate, cold coffee. You can say if it's not easy or natural then it's not joy and you wouldn't be wrong. One loses the way it all goes together, then finds it and then loses it again: this seems to be a law. I write to my teacher after two years of not writing, wondering is he even alive anymore. The New Testament's commitment to John in relation to Jesus means something that can be hard to countenance but since when do any of us get a pass on monkey see, monkey do? I mean yes, I'm tired but also, who stops traveling halfway to home? My father smiles with his lantern in the ancestral shadows and I smile back, my mouth full of a difficult gift.
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