Yet in that silver age A pale boy The sea god’s love Came toward a fine and flashing Monotony; and steam came From him as from a mechanism And he came to disregard The magnetic seasons As teachers hurry under a tent the heat Coming toward him even as He sinks himself further As if to please again the boring god
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How to Be a Lawyer
My father taught me how to play the beer bottle. It was Schlitz, and I was three or four. "You tuck your lower lip under, then blow air over the top of the bottle." I produced a tone, and we laughed. He paused. "You can make a different sound if there's less in the bottle," he said, motioning for me to take a sip. I did, then blew another note. We laughed again.
"Do you want to learn something else? Here's how to be a lawyer. Raise one eyebrow." I did so. "Good. Now hold it for a few seconds, turn toward the jury, and say 'I see.'"