Hello it is Armistice Day, the day when Gays go to March in Philadelphia with The Gay Mens Health Crisis. I am seeing if anyone notices that service sometimes only takes a glance. There is nothing anymore that tells me permanent abstinence will be my calling to live a life of a Renegade who is free from charms. The evenings seem to trail off from McCulty to Finnegan. I see the world as anyone does, but feelings die, they are not here for very long. Elizabeths Kiss let’s me also understand that Women who tender also lament. When the faces I see drift down to the earth with gravity. I know I am seeing Elizabeth. Open zealous, and not for a forsaken need for very long. The Mornings are not short now, they are the pirouette of the cantaganos moment. I’m can not speak without reliances, departures, and hope. The Mornings now ends, now reciting the lament we spoke in oath at the South Street Seaport. I am not one to grieve melancholy, at the, or to the fields. Yesterday, and the Winters wetness galosh in the wind. The Sun is high the air is warm. Elizabeth and I have never stalemate. The dress I am wearing is somehow on paisley underwear, as I know now I may always, and only send Elizabeth my Love.