I tried to write a poem about The Woman, but I read it again and didn’t like it, because it sounded like I knew what I was talking about. Well, I don’t. Not really, no. I’m just desperately grateful that some women noticed me, and some cared about me and gave me the world. Their world, which means everything, you see, including comfort, fierce loyalty, and most of all, acceptance and forgiveness. Forgiveness was their greatest gift of all. So this stuff about cosmic kaleidoscopes of desire, and delirious dreams and raunchy ***, and, and, pain sometimes, is, well, it’s only partly true. Incandescent love is unconditional. That's what they gave me, see, and this all I want to humbly say.