Written by Albertine Clarke
He sent me extracts from his diary.
At the age where I now find myself,
He walked through sage plants in the desert,
Had his heart broken,
And bought a new coat.
Thirty-three years ago,
He looked at the moon, and was
Afraid of the coyotes howling,
But kept on, under the lambent sky,
To look over the edge of the Canyon.
Thirty-three years ago,
On the February day that I was born,
He flew to Utah with his wife,
And listened to Elvis in the car,
And thought about making love.