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Show HOLD ON for James Wright I spoke with you once. The telephone rang in someone else's house and I answered it because I was buried far back toward the foyer nearer to the kitchen where the decor is always simple and sentimental. It was you long distance, having just finished something and finding yourself with no one to read it to, because Annie, who hid the booze, had stepped out for awhile. Even then I knew how it was, how like a child you were who calls out his dreams in the middle of the night and wakes you out of your own. For the sadness does rise at times for little reason, out of nothing, 12 |