Fare Forward: Letters from David Markson

May 22 ’05

Dear Simso—

I’m glad I finally saw you. I am.

Next time I will try to be civilized enough to have lunch, too. And not to spend half our time bitching about all of my penny-ante maladies.

Were I a dozen or fifteen years younger — yeah, say fifteen, so I’d only be 62—I never would have let you go wandering off alone that way either. I did think to check out that restaurant a while later, to make sure you weren’t sort of semi-stranded there — after also having paused to discover that that Bowery poetry place⁵⁵ was listed in the phone book as well.

I hope the reading was what you wanted.

Meanwhile I keep crossing over to smell the lilacs. I have a vague feeling my woman brings in some in Wittgenstein’s Mistress, but can’t be sure⁵⁶—and haven’t opened it in forever. They are now on that small table next to where you were sitting, far more attractive there.

Stay well, both of you.

With love—

David

55 The Bowery Poetry Club, where I was reading later that afternoon.

56 “I have brought in lilacs, also.” (77)