The Owl in Daylight
I kept meaning to check, and kept forgetting. I knew it was coming up -- the day when I would be the exact same age Philip K. Dick was on the day he died. Finally I did check, this very hour, only to discover I've already outlived Philip K. Dick by five days, and that I passed his death-age on New Year's Eve. Oh was I ever lit that night, and not by drugs or alcohol. For the rest of my life, however long or short that may be, I will always dwell in the glow of a post-Dickian New Year, every new moment an unearned, undeserved gift, filled with mysteries proffering potent if veiled invitations.