I Used To Be A Child. It

What Else Is Life From The Time You Were Born But A Struggle To Matter, At Least To Someone?

He Sits In His Car At Traffic Lights On His Way Out Sometimes And Tries To Estimate How Many Times He Has Sat Here, Waiting At These Traffic Lights On His Way Somewhere Without You, Hoping To Meet Someone With The Capacity To Consign You To An Anecdote, To Be Eventually Confused With Others

What Is It About Men That Make Women So Lonely?

The Peculiar Striations That Define Someone's Personality Are Too Numerous To Know, No Matter How Close The Observer. A Person We Think We Know Can Suddenly Become Someone Else When Previously Hidden Strands Of His Character Are Called To The Fore By Circumstance.

I Used To Be A Child. It Came Naturally To Me. I Was An Adult For A Time, Too. That Came Less Naturally.