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Sometimes too much is too much

On my kitchen table are these books, all of which are in my "read immediately" stack: the correspondence of Elizabeth Bishop & Robert Lowell; the autobiographies of William Carlos Williams and Yehuda Amichai; 2 or 3 Pot Thief mysteries; 2 new (used) books I got in the mail yesterday: Flight of the Maidens by Jane Gardam & Singing Sands, the only Josephine Tey mystery that's not in the library; New York, a big historical novel Bessie gave me at Thanksgiving; Lois Lowry's Son; and Tsipi Keller's Prophet of Tenth Street, which I started & it's great but the type is so tiny I can't always bring myself to pick it up. This is not a complete list. Then there are library books & all the ones on my Kindle.

I remember once when my brother & I were visiting our folks & had partaken of a certain uncontrolled substance. We got the munchies & suddenly realized that instead of our bare cupboards & refrigerators, these would be full. And they were, stuffed with every single thing we had ever wanted when high. After rooting around for a while, we realized we just wanted to sit on the porch.
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