Sylvia Plath I wish it were more than just the crystal tone of your voice rising from the rumpled sheets, the bed a distant landscape viewed from far ...bove. The room a sky, an expanse, a horizon filled in blue with white clouds and today, rising into the horizon a thousand hot air balloons, each so brightly colorful in the sun. Your words floating into my consciousness as I touch you, here… there, softer, faster. Each utterance more urgent as the jets roar in a bright flame and the balloon. I nodded thoughtfully."OK," I said. "What would you like to know? What I decided in general or how it applies to you?" Both," she replied. I noticed her eyes were darkening."In general, I learned there are a great many things over which I have no control," I said. "In specific, I learned that you are one of them. The result is that I plan to take a step back and let things play out before I make any decisions or commitments."Apparently that might have been the wrong thing to say."So, you have. More

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