I found out that I love 5-star hotels and friendly people and Black jokes and Whites’ too, as long as it is told by an old, good friend. 

I have decided to turn back on the television set now that I know it is me who must draw the line.   No more trying to be perfect.  Perfect, didn’t save the Greeks, the Romans, the French, the Germans, nor the Spanish; and it won’t save me.   Fashion and reason don’t do much for stinky people with no dreams of cleaning up, but we all stink sometimes.

Everybody stinks; the needy, the hopeful, just like the ignorant.  And, hell yes, the players stinks, the suckers, the masses, the fish and the high-rollers, they all stink.  Traditions or propaganda subtle to a fool or one misguided reeks of decay. 

However, we must go on, we are about growth; and beside, everybody knows we humans can’t resist the urge to change. 

Maybe I’ll stop smoking.

Written by Fitzgerald Brown, introducing the new title, Bridges 2007: a book of poems and prose