Two Neighbors

Faces of two eternities keep looking at me. One is Omar Khayam and the red stuff wherein men forget yesterday and to-morrow and remember only the voices and songs, the stories, newspapers and fights of today. One is Louis Cornaro and a slim trick of slow, short meals across slow, short years, letting Death open the door only in slow, short inches.

I have a neighbor who swears by Omar. I have a neighbor who swears by Cornaro. Both are happy.

Faces of two eternities keep looking at me. Let them look.