|
Thursday |
|
 I met Poet-O in 1996. I had gone to
Central Park for lunch, leaving my mother in an oncologist's office where
she'd be undergoing several hours of tests. That was way back when at the
start of her illness, which would last for more than three years even though
the first prognosis had been two months. I bought Isidore lunch and we sat
near the zoo, where he entertained me with poems, tall tales, and tame squirrels.
A couple of years later, I called him up. As luck would have it, he was
reading the very next day at a college one
block west of my apartment on 71st Street. I videotaped the evening. One
year later, a film student at NYU found me via the Web and requested photos
and any other materials I might have, so I sent her a copy of the videotape.
Then, just a couple of weeks ago, I received news of another documentary:
Life Is A
Dream. I did not contribute anything to it, but I sure wish I could be
there for the premiere. Given the way
coincidence has thrown me and
O together
in the past, I'm sure we'll meet again. Ting-a-ling. |
