sensing my reckless
desperation — maverick
ambition — her gift
as we said goodbye was — I
hope you find your niche in life

A few days ago I posted about Judith Everard, and this morning’s poem is about her as well. I’ve always had mixed feelings about her words to me. They were said with such deliberate thoughtfulness, summoning all the goodwill she could, but I always felt just a little disappointed that ‘ordinariness’ was apparently the best she could wish for me. I felt that as a criticism of her. And yet maybe she saw true. This took place in 1978, and I was to cling obstinately over the next three or four decades to a belief in the value of my own recklessness. But one way or another, it’s ordinariness that has won out and I am mostly glad about that. My dream last night seemed to depict someone attempting to settle down with a job, a relationship and a place to live.


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