Bring up roses, already turning dark,
And cardamon and wines; being rich
And young, we must trust the dark threads
Of the Three Sisters are still unbroken.
- Horace, Ode II.3 [trans. Robert Bly]
Advice to Youth
The creeping lull, the drowning numbness of alcohol you are used to, but not the audacity of this fine old vintage, and not the smooth weight of the glass, six times your age, absorbing your quick, eager breath, the heat from the flushed palm of your hand.
You are so young and impressionable. I forget, sometimes, to be careful.
No, the darkness that I drink of is not wine. The taste is bitter, and time will do nothing to improve it.
You are a long way away from home, and desire to be further still. You beg to be remade. But do not mistake me. Beneath the silk and cashmere, my skin is cold and growing colder. I cannot be the one who takes you.
Go now, Neal, in safety. Keep the name. It suits you better than the one you were born with.
THE END
10 February 2010