I bumped into George Gauld in Nathan’s <br />said after his meal he’d visit <br />his father in Seagate. <br />I offered a lift. <br />When we reached my VW van <br />it was difficult for him to step in <br />because his left leg was much <br />longer than his right leg, <br />and also because he couldn’t <br />bend his longer leg at the knee. <br />While we ate in Nathan’s I told him <br />I couldn’t decide if I should be <br />an artist or an alcoholic. <br />Gauld said, “When you create <br />you connect yourself <br />to all the real visible realities <br />of other human beings <br />but the alcoholic high is <br />connected to nothing <br />floating disembodied in the void.” <br />I didn’t respond to his statement then <br />but as we neared Seagate <br />I blurted out, “How come you drink? ” <br />“I’m a cripple, ” <br />he said calmly, <br />as if he’d worked out <br />the torment <br />long ago.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wise-man-knows-his-own-soul/
