382
JONATHAN STRONG
S. This is the day I have to say good-bye. People are afraid of
being the same.
It
is too threatening. But to be different, truly, is very
hard too. We should all try to be truly different and alone, some day.
If
you have written a Symphony, you may still be just a child. The
greatest, with me, could never have been.
He is standing on the edge, holding Swinburne out, over the
street.
In
this starlight, from behind, he looks almost like a boy.
In
this month I have not known him at all. He is very far from me.
The book falls.
MRS. S. Arthur!
Five stories. She is pulling him back from the edge, he is in her
arms, he says to her, "My only love."
Now it is very late. We have been walking and telling each other
things for hours. He is easy to talk to now. We said good-night to the
Supperburgers, and to Matty, and we got rid of Charles pretty
easily, though I am grateful to her for coming to warn me. I think
most of the parties are over now, and everyone is in bed on the hill,
except us, walking down the street, under the gas lamps, to the river.
I may soon get tired of this street. I have never had anyone my age
as interesting to talk to as Louie. Maybe I can get a job at his col–
lege, in the kitchen or something. I could live there and try writing
poems again. Or take drawing classes. All sorts of plans are going
through my head.
If
I only had money. I will have to work, that is
only fair. I am eighteen. The funny thing is I do not really know
Louis LePays. Maybe he will like me more than I like him. I have to
learn to get used to people. Maybe I will become completely different.
If
life really is stretching out, and I am only eighteen... it is a long
time.
