The middle-aged man decides to cut a hole in his breakfast table, to stick his finger in and so carry around with him that table, his breakfast-recollection.

Because you are the Visiting Distinguished, and because our whole city is celebrating your illustrious Treatise On Weeping, I am giving a party in your honor and discussing with you some prominent instances of weeping

What correspondence there is
between his eyebrows:
looking at his fragile face

 (for my grandmother as a young woman)

There is no sun
for it can not be remembered:

every song on the radio reminds me of you
each one seems to be the story of our lives
yet i believe nothing is like anything else