Lunatic Fringe

From the Associated Press. Better Late than never.

I saw her walking. One in a million, say. But I saw her. Yes, I saw her first. The sun was shining, but I’m not smiling. I wasn’t smiling. I’m just a lonely street. Reaching from somewhere back East, I find myself here. My memories are all points east. Like the water where I begun, I am a river, the course is before me, now, that must be run. I am a silent street, I do not stop or speak, til I find the water, an end again, so much like where I begun. So the sun rises, it’s always comin’ up behind me. The sun also rises, in her world, the sun sets away from here. The sun sets on us apart. She is near me today, I saw her walking. Always longitudinal, I long to be near her. My life knows is a discourse of solely latitude, and always she goes forth, her eyes to the south, or glowing to the north. It is always the glance that is least, that casts her eyes to the east, for but an instant she spies me, but I am but a lonely street, my promises merely platitudes. Where is she tonight? The moon