Keith, at the time, was living in an old warehouse just across the freeway from downtown, right at the exit ramp. There was a long asphalt driveway that ran up to the huge double door that was his front door, and there was one exactly like it across the warehouse; the same kind of door and driveway leading out and down to the street again. 

The harvest was over. Even the scythe had not been mine. I had nowhere to go.

In the evening I found a girl lying on the ground like a sheaf of wheat, radiant and silent. When I bent over her she was watching me, smiling.

I have always considered it bad policy to land on my head. I try my best to avoid doing so. The head is just not structured to bear the weight of the body, or to withstand more than an occasional semi-violent thump. The soles of the feet, on the other hand, manage this quite well. I have jumped from a few moving vehicles in my day, and let me tell you, the head is just a frightened onlooker in such instances.

I, Erica Jong, in the midst of my life,
        having had two parents, two sisters,
        two husbands, two books of poems

I have a feeling that I will not die
For quite some time. Only poets with a kind
Of supererogatory strength of mind,

It's gone about far enough,
your being kind to animals.
I've had a belly full.

A toe dances under my nose         My eye
Takes it from there, moving on up peekaboo style
Over ankles and calves past kneecaps to thighs—

(1) I don’t know about your boss, but my particular employer is certainly exacting. For example: Not too long ago the orders came down from above: no more of this sloppy filing, no more of these simpleminded rectangles and neat but inappropriate manila folders.

No one has seen me today 
as I too have seen 
no one 
not even myself

My friends are tired.
The ones who are married are tired
of being married.