sketches

The following were found in a notebook left on the corner steps by a library branch I rarely visit:

Never made
anything.
you never made
a single thing.

I can really only imagine how, 10 years ago I loped around university lake, slowly, taking in young girls in small shorts, egrets roaming around; always one nervous eye towards me, another on the lake. Sun seemed to gleam from everywhere. I spent hours there reading, watching birds. I got to see pelicans wintering over there once. was it a dream or did I witness hundreds of birds flying in great circles above the lake, only to slowly return down, one by one, the grim look of accomplishment that can only come form a bird whose beak is half its body length. Why do I remember the runs?
I also remember the bench where I finished Suttree and the stoop where I finished the Crossing. I can sum up a chunk of my life with those two books though they only covered a couple of weeks.