what we all hope for

 an excerpt from One Hundred Years of Solitude: "... Petra Cotes, for her part, loved him more and more as she felt his love increasing, and that was how in the ripeness of Autumn she began to believe once more in the youthful superstition that poverty was the servitude of love... Madly in love after so many years... they enjoyed the miracles of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn out old people they kept on blooming and like little children and playing together like dogs."

Bar Exam Poem

Sun falls behind the statehouse
gold leaf sky
watch through the dust streaked windows
of the library.

The wind moves the leaves of the trees,
stoic and constant on boston common.