True, I wasn’t with the Kerouacs or Cassidys, riding and driving in cross country orgies of food, booze, a few women (very few women), Buddhism and ...oetry, no I was too much in the midst of my disillusionment with Rod McKuen to know about beat poetry. I stood in line that October, not knowing that just a year later, the woman I waited to see would take her blanket into her car and go to sleep forever while still parked in her garage. I only knew it was Anne, Anne Sexton, and though I didn’t. She returned, and told me to take off the shoes, and wash up the wineglasses and tea cups.When I had finished, I walked back into the lounge. She was sitting onthe sofa, and patted the sofa next to her. I came and sat next to her -and she put her arm round my shoulder."You know, Paul said you were very pretty", she told me."Really?" Oh yes. And I know for a fact that he is particularly partial to apretty TV. Perhaps you two could get to know each other better nexttime."I just looked back at her. More

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