"The Key to Happiness is broken off in the lock -

Use the window."

Wrote that when I was around twenty-one. I was feverishly trying to finish up my Senior Project at Bard, and my collection of writings - one short story and maybe a dozen poems - was looking really skimpy to me. So I called this a poem and included it. Hey, one more page.

But even at the highest tide of my post-adolescent ego I could not convince myself that this was anything more than a wise-crack in fortune-cookie drag.

Funny thing, though - reading back through that collection, some of the more "serious" work has not aged well at all, while some of the lightweight bits still seem fresh. Good notion to reflect on, I tell myself......