Where have the good times gone? A thousand songs and conversations have ascended these rafters and floorboards. Remember paisano days of crowding kitchens. Remember the kitchen songs.      The shortest days of the year suggest the longest evenings of after hours escaping the wet and falling snow where mortals have trembled in their second hand boots and crowded basements with basement songs.      Grief has had its way too long   Each one of us bears witness      In lonely rooms transients have witnessed traffic and paced as caged tigers cursing their design. Outside, young lovers summon one another by throwing shoes at bedroom windows. Remember the bedroom songs.