Coming home from the store today, I stopped down by the river. I always stopped there before when I was smoking on the sly. Now I’m smoking for real but I still like to sit by the water. An angry gypsy family was sitting down there too by a little bonfire under the train tracks. Maybe they were not really angry, maybe they just yell a lot. Yet another beautiful fall day, the river glistened in the sunlight as it headed towards the blue Mediterranean. The sun on my back felt good and I started to think of you. How happy you have made me in such a short time. How good it felt being in your arms. How sometimes I tend to mourn the ending while I am at the apogee. How the endings inspire in me a vague desire to lay on the train tracks. I am rethinking that last point…I realize that I am getting a bit too old to take every loss like a spoiled child, and there really is no loss. I don’t own you. No one owns me either. I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to love you and to have loved several people in my lifetime. Love is magical, no use trying to put it in a bottle. It flows down by the river and sometimes we are lucky enough to share it with someone else for a moment before it goes out to sea.