Tuesday, July 2, 2024



I wrote a letter to you and then ripped it to shreds because it didn’t make any sense. Word after word after word that never added up to a single coherent thought. As if I were emotionally dyslexic. Or grammatically distraught. Like I was writing in cryptic language and you needed an ancient cipher to break the code. Either that or maybe you have to cut each word out individually and put them all in a plastic jack-o’-lantern like you’re getting ready to play family charades or prepping for a raffle. Close your eyes, reach in and choose. Each word you pull is the right word. Glue them to your heart. Hold a mirror up to your chest and read what it says. Then you’ll know. . 


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