I Just Can't. I'm Married. I Made

How Hard Can It Be To Find A Girl And An Elephant For Christ's Sake?

... A Gaggle Of Old Ladies Is Glued To The Window At The End Of The Hall Like Children Or Jailbirds. They're Spidery And Frail, Their Hair As Fine As Mist. Most Of Them Are A Good Decade Younger Than Me, And This Astounds Me. Even As Your Body Betrays You, Your Mind Denies It.--there Are Five Of Them Now, White Headed Old Things Huddled Together And Pointing Crooked Fingers At The Glass.

I Tend Not To Think About The Reading Public At All, Or The Business, When I'm Writing.

Is Where You're From The Place You're Leaving Or Where You Have Roots?

I Just Can't. I'm Married. I Made My Bed And Now I Have To Lie In It.