O Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin my love my love, where are you & where am I and why haven't you written and I love you every second of every hour of every day & night. I love you, Caitlin. In all the hotel bedrooms I've been in in this two weeks, I've waited for you all the time. She can't be long now, I say to my damp miserable self, any minute now she'll be coming into the room: the most beautiful woman on the earth, and she is mine, & I am hers, until the end of the earth and long long after. Caitlin, I love you. Have you forgotten me? Do you hate me? Why don't you write? Two weeks may seem a small time but to me it's old as the hills & deep as my worship of you.... And in two weeks I've travelled all over the stinking place, even into the deep South: in 14 days I've given 14 readings... I'm coming back, by plane, on the 26th of May, & will tell you later just when the plane arrives. Will you meet me in London?.... I love you, I want you, it's burning hell without you. I don't want to see anybody or talk to anybody, I'm lost without you. I love your body & your soul & your eyes & your hair & your voice & the way you walk & talk. And that's all I can see now: you moving, in a light... I've been to foul Washington; I've been to Virginia & North Carolina and Pennsylvania & Syracuse....and now I'm back in New York, for two days, in the same room we had... I am profoundly in love with you, the only profundity I know...
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