Just how much abuse will you be able to take? There's no way to tell by the first kiss

I write to a good friend: it's true that I'm lonesome. And this is something I keep telling God too. And God keeps on hugging me and saying, Yes, I know, humans are. And then sending me little love-notes. Like the elderly Japanese businessman near Shibuya Station in Tokyo who rushed to me with his umbrella and walked me to the station entrance when the rain broke out and I was in a t-shirt, making my way back to the airport.