. . . HEDONISTIC GIRLWe seek ourselves in metaphors,Never knowing who or what we areUntil we learn who and what we are not,And, bereft of the opposite...sex,I wonder as I wander, seeking, on my quest,A mirror to mirror my true soul,A fountain of the deep that is deeper yetThan the soul I keep, a looking-glassThat does not look upon a topsy-turvyWorld of white rabbits and caterpillars,But it is too much, I think, to ask,And I simplify, hearing, smelling, tasting,Touching, blind to the rest of. Oh. I'll get a towel." Denise seemed morethan a little dazed, barely registering the accident for a few moments,but stood up to find a towel nonetheless."I've got some tissues in my briefcase, Denise," Michael called over toher, as Stephen picked the glass up off the floor and set it on thetable again. The stain would be very hard to get out of the carpet, buthis anger at Michael, now finally coming to the fore, didn't let thespill distract him. As his wife rummaged through Michael's. More

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