Tag: The New Yorker

Confessions of a Nature Lover

Back then I was going steady with fog, who could dance like nobody’s business, I threw her over for a leaf that one day fluttered first her shadow then her whole life into my hand, that’s a lot of relatives, this leaf and that leaf and all the other leaves hung around, I told her I needed space, which was true, without it I’d only be a soul, and no one’s sure that whisp is real, that’s why we say of real estate, location, location location, and of speech, locution, locution, locution and of love, yes, yes, yes I am on my knees, will you have me, world?

Bob Hicok

(from The New Yorker, May 14, 2012)