Loveis

The

Night

doyle

eugene

livingston

Cone

The wind caught at his heart as it always did whenever it came back to him that

he was lonely and had nothing to do with his nights but go out on the streets and look for what he knew existed nowhere but in his own heart namely love and a desire to be loved by somebody he could openly admire and not be ashamed of before God and the world for what he did not feel

in the least was bad or degraded him in any way but rather gave him the only reason to feel he was truly alive in the world where things were otherwise so dead killed by routine and indifference

and God knows what but his heart ached and emotion caught at his throat not to cry for this inward torture and the pain of being alone in the streets again and needing somebody to love but having no one and not to give way to hysteria that maybe he was growing old to be one of those queen mothers who everybody laughed at and secretly pitied and were half afraid that one day they would become like that too:

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