Listen, all God’s children got this yearn and half of them wish they could look just about like you do now. And so will you, if you ever get to be ninety. That photo that set you off today? How you’ll wish you’d taken more, back when your skin still held the shape of a lusty animal you forgot to love, wish you’d hung mirrors on all your walls and halls and oh hell, the fat blue indifferent sky in praise of this body you had one time when everything still worked.
