"I don’t mean to sound bitter, cold or cruel, but I am, so that’s how it comes out."
"I am tired of the litany
of months, September … October …
I am tired of the way the seasons
keep changing, mimicking
the seasons of the flesh
which are real and finite."
— Linda Pastan, from “In a Northern Country,” Poetry (October 1993)
Weekends are always a brutal reminder of how pointless my life is.