we spoke of other things -marriages void of love, the evening sunlight in the trees, the winter sea mists rolling in. the amputated plane trees... the grassy bank where we smoked our cigarettes and in the distance, out of uniform, the brothers, mowing lawns or walking, solitary men, no women waiting them.
I leave you Brother Lynch bifocalled bright eyed man; can only wish the others see you as I do-- nothing celibate and sorry, nothing sad about you.
Meantime warm cheers,cold beers, good Brother Lynch, you have your heaven yet-- green shirtopen to the neck-- anold man blinking at the sunset.
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{K:81846} 12/4/2004
