"The one adjustment that makes a tragic thing bearable is a smile - however forced." **
You don't know. All griefs are small griefs, you would like to tell me, with happiness' wind behind you.
You don't know, I danced with those sati ladies with my shirt off. All griefs are insurmountable, dangling at the end of infinite tines. Your teeth reach out as your soul reaches.
And somewhere in the night, somebody is using a dead man's voice and wrapping himself in Christmas lights.
Grief for the father, tears for the son.
The news is a lonely cube of ice in my fevered mouth. I swallow cold water.