Waiting For The Wind To Pick Up

Nighttime and all is right with the world. I am dialed in and smooth at the moment, or even better, I am like the softness of good music smooth as ever beneath a starlight sky in the cobblestone section of our Downtown, New York City streetsThe moon is on the rise. The warmer winds are calm and the stars, Good-God, the stars are better than the sparkles from the bursting rockets on the 4th of July. I swear . . . If you ask me how I knowlove existsI will tell you that this is how I knowand I will tell you that Clapton was onto somethingwhen he sang about“My darling, you look wonderful tonight The lies can be true and the truth can be lies and for the moment, nothing else matters because yes, she is my darling . . and she looks wonderful tonight.I do not have the time or the tongue to talk about “what happened before,” and nor is there any reason to go over my pointless regard for resentments. No, the moment is far greater than this.I have no time for the mild to moderate informants, or…