66th Tower

And before we end the evening, I want to share with you a
story. It’s about a man I knew, a man I suppose I would still
know.

One night when he was sad, when the ticks of the clock arm
were damp and filled with time, and the sleepy eyes of his
earnest dog were still so faithful – moved like grass or
dashboard meters before the straightest highway – he left his
room unaccompanied to walk to the 66th Street Tower Building.

Later, he leapt from the windblown head of that tower, leaving
its guttural antennas lonely and backdrop still.

As he fell toward the ground, passed each floor and its shiny
windows reflecting things he was too close by to discern, he
would reassure himself out loud, in a gentle whisper, by saying;
“So far, so good. So far, so good.”