You think you want the blue skies, the open road, but really you want the tunnel, you want to know how the story ends.

A few nights later, I secretly hope that I might be a genius. Why else can no amount of sleeping pills fell my brain? But in the morning my daughter asks me what a cloud is and I cannot say.

But now it seems possible that the truth about getting older is that there are fewer and fewer things to make fun of until finally there is nothing you are sure you will never be.

And that phrase - 'sleeping like a baby.' Some blonde said it blithely on the subway the other day. I wanted to lie down next to her and scream for five hours in her ear.

The reason to have a home is to keep certain people in and everyone else out.

These bits of poetry that stick to her like burrs.

I had thought loving two people so much would straighten it.