Wednesday, December 10, 2014


I have met a thousand people in my life, but I have never met you.
I have never met your spectacles nor have I met your laugh.

I have never met your bald pate nor have I met your zest for life.

Nor your fine inventions nor you gout nor your way with the ladies 

nor your French have I met nor your pantaloons have I met either.

Although I have met a few French girls, some good records, a pair of boots

from America and old books with the ink that never met you but sometimes acts

as though it did. Well, 

if it didn’t meet you but acts that way, so can I. So I say to you, in a book:


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