In an ambiguous toast with myself I clanged together two glasses Held up a memory, So she’d have something to remember me by One full, a favorite wine of white The other empty, of prudence on rye It sure tasted better Rolling off my face     Yet what have I...

  I used to see myself in one of those sky high offices. A room with a view of a big city skyline and the rushing traffic below.   I could put my feet up on a beautiful lacquered desk bearing only pictures of my adorable children in the ballet and soccer get-ups, and my beautiful wife in...