I didn't go to the moon, I went much further -- for time is the longest distance between two places -- Not long after that I was fired for writing a poem on the lid of a shoe-box. I left Saint Louis. I descended the steps of this fire-escape for a last time and followed, from then on, in my father's footsteps, attempting to find in motion what was lost in space -- I traveled around a great deal. The cities swept about me like dead leaves, leaves that were brightly colored but torn away from the branches. I would have stopped, but I was pursued by something. It always came upon me unawares, taking me altogether by surprise. Perhaps a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass -- Perhaps I am walking along a street at night, in some strange city, before I have found companions. I pass the lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold. The window is filled with pieces of colored glass, tiny transparent bottles in delicate colors, like bits of a shattered rainbow. Then all at once my sister touches my shoulder. I turn around and look into her eyes ... Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I ever intended to be! I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger -- anything that can blow your candles out! (Laura bends over the candles) -- for nowadays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura -- and so good-bye ...

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands