She Dear One Who Followed Me

It was she, bless her, who followed me... she'd been crying... she's too good for me, that's for sure... "Your friends are too good to you... it makes me sick to see them... you don't really give... you indulge in conversation, but your mind is always elsewhere, ticking over. You could hurt me, you know... You are a Don Juan, so much. Like him, you have no desires... I think you have deep fears... There's something so...so... in your look. It's not that you're empty... but that there is an omnipresent sadness about you, a fatality..." ("She Dear One Who Followed Me" first existed as a series of scrawled notes based on several conversations I enjoyed in 1982 or '83.)