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28 April 2010 @ 11:03 pm
My ill stomach burbles with a sad soft sickness while on the phone you relay to me the story of your food poisoning. I quietly contemplate a flipbook of postcards that I will send to you daily without return addresses. I compile secret messages that I will mail letter by letter. Each glyph sliced from its magazine will travel lonely hundreds of miles in an envelope addressed, in the scrawl of my left hand, to your apartment. The 365 characters of the year will tell the story of your distance from me, no longer merely physical. Or perhaps, deftly crafted but foolishly deciphered, they will excite you to fantasies of secret admirers, spurring your courage to pursue trysts with the unwed women of Chicago.
I would send elephants in flat rate boxes. 
I would train carrier pigeons to fly to your office.
I would hire public radio personalities to leave you voicemail.
Anything for you.

Location: faux-op
plantinglilacs on April 29th, 2010 07:10 pm (UTC)
glad to see you posting, sad to see it about such a lonely topic

feel free to message me any time if you need to chat

take care