As Raymond Carver wrote. I vaguely remember his lines,
go right, not left. Take that road and no other, there’s a creek on the left
and there in the doorway of that house stands the woman who loves you,
something like that he wrote, but different, though I’ve remembered it.
Why must he die so young? There’s little more than some love and art
in some lives. And if none of it works, if it goes wrong, you
actually go left… Damn it, where am I? The woman in late sunlight then?
Take that road and no other, a creek on the left, she wearing sun in her hair.
It’s there by that house that Carver’s car stands. I can see
him at the wheel, though he’s slumped forward and no longer breathes in or out.
--Rogi Wieg
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