My heart was going fast at this point. We pulled up to her place. It was pretty small, so the whole family thing was probably out. "You can come in if...you want," she said. "Oh, okay. Thanks." I was both eager and sweaty. We walked in her house and she turned on the lights. She began putting her groceries away. "So, you live here alone?" I asked trying not to sound too creepy. "Well, my sister stays with me sometimes when she is in town, but other than that, it's just me," she replied. As she. He said: "This next one's somewhat longer." It was, it was solitary and bewildered. While most of it was relatively free in form, there was a repeating section of four lines that echoed again and again. I recognized it as the second stanza of Dunbar's "Lament,"Our plesance here is all vain glory, /This fals world is but transitory, /The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee:/Timor mortis conturbat me.[Our pleasure here is all vain glory, /This false world is transitory, /The flesh is porous, and. More

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