I wonder where you are, in Woodbridge, Red Bank, Edison? I hope you are healthy, in the era of spreading virus and frayed nerves. I hope you never grow old, and in my mind you never will. Woodbridge is in the news, with mounting infection. You don’t live there anymore, I pray. Wherever you are, live a life in your own interpretation of pursuit and pleasure. I imagine. I will be here, trying to arrange and rearrange words and phrases, only to find them unequal to what I feel about you.