Dear Neil D.,
I've already written your letter and I'm pressed for time so I won't transcribe it now. But a response was written just not sent. Don't feel slighted. It's like a night in white satin.
It was great seeing you last night and sitting on the couch on your old porch with you. I wish you really were able to hear me when I say my life isn't as good as it used to be since you moved away. I love you.
- The thigh against yours.
I saw New York State in the cave of inertia. It's fucking brilliant. That picture of the pensive Barbadan is my favorite. Though the haughty king looks awfully tired. We should return to that castle soon. First week of being dead would be best for me.
- Naked eye.
Sorry my door was closed. I wish I'd left it open. I wish there were more sunrises while the Buddhist Jew crooned and the bagged wine drained and the sexjuices dried to a falling dust, but at least we had that one.
- Mr. Clean (I promise).
You are so loyal. You are my piece of driftwood in the maelstrom of influenza. Bury me in your loving, stiffening folds.
Dear Miss Craft,
I lied. I haven't finished it.
- Stephen D.
I have felt you once again in my life. I'm sorry I forgot about you.