11.22.2003 4:30 pm
reentry

"Once more unto the breach...."

I met a girl. She stole my hat and put her face in it.

"Does it smell bad?" I asked.

"No," she said, face still concealed, "it smells good."

If only she were not twelve.

The hat was much too big for her. My jacket, stolen as well, swelled down below her knees. She wore the quaint adornments of premature adulthood, as is the custom of our time. She looked frail. Tough. Dickensonian. I wanted to take her with me but... you can't take it with you, as they say.

I went to school to learn grand concepts, to be able to see worldly designs. But even standing beneath the stars on a winter's night, I conceive not a grand joy but broader and broader sorrows.

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