For the muse who hovers in the air beside my head and whispers stories in my ear, which I write down and send out into the world.
For the rivers of America.
For the new vinyl pressings of the Beatles albums in mono.
For Bob Dylan and The Basement Tapes Complete.
For Rabbi Jeshua bar Joseph, a kind teacher.
For a girl who kissed me, just once, in 1968.
For family and friends, of course, the roof over my head, enough food to eat, a good supply in hand of cigarettes and alcohol.
But really, today, most of all, for a girl who kissed me, just once, in 1968.