Let the Earl Gray steep a bit longer. I heard the paper land on the porch. I heard the leaves crunch under the paperboys Red Wings. I heard the car take the corner hard and then skid over the hidden bump further down the block. Kiss her on the forehead and roll over once more. The sunlight can wait another hour. Draw the shades. Crank the Sibelius. The grass grows slowly now. Everythings on a dimmer. Suddenly I'm looking out over a giant backyard in the Syracuse suburbs near University Hill. I'm inside a soaring colonial where the old wood groans and the service stairs to the kitchen are painted white. There were rooms everywhere like a maze. This was where I first decided how I wanted to grow old. Minor Threat and Mercedes. Bad Brains and Brooks Brothers. California King or in an old sleeping bag on that groaning floor. Two teas, light and sweet. She's a dog yet she's purring resting her heavy head on my thigh. Wolves howling across a neon green valley. I smell blueberry & lemon drizzle cake. The tea must be ready by now. Shall we?