when he told me that he was premature and only weighed a pound at birth, I envisioned him as an infant, compact like a pound cake, lying in a clear plastic preemie life support box, while nurse's aides were off loafing, already rococo and bursting his bunting wrapper with his dreams and plans of film scenarios. I'm sure he was entertaining the other babies, making them laugh about the inept hospital staff, their moms and dads, and the oddness of being born.
