I don’t think I love you anymore. I know, though, that if I ever see you again, I’m going to take you in my arms and kiss you on the lips. I don’t see any way of getting around that. I used to love you, as you know. At least that’s what I used to call it when you didn’t want anything to do with me. But that’s all over now. I guess I finally stopped loving you, leaving me hanging all the time, when you stopped seeing me enough to leave me anywhere. That love is nowhere, but I’m a man of blood and bone. There’s no sense loving you at all if that’s what love is.

1 June 1975