Once, a long time ago, I knew a guy named Martin who did not like to be called Marty, though I'd heard another man, Charles, who himself allowed people to call him Chuck, call him Marty on several occasions.
Slower & slower & then, for one/
Whole month, it spun so fast/
It was impossible to be jealous/
Or afraid or lost. Pants flew/
Off of strangers. Lapdogs floated/
Away, zigzagging across/
The sky like balloons.
Here is something we have learned time and again: you need not love everything. You do not have to devote yourself to what you thought you’d enjoy. You can decide, whenever you like, that what you feel is no kind of love.