I close my letter but never my love

South of Market. Urine-smelling streets, green rusty overpasses, cardboard boxes stacked into a makeshift hut. As I walk by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire, a loose pile of handwritten papers catches my eye. They flutter randomly in the breeze. I stop and sort the pages.

Page one

Page two

Page three

Page four

Page five

I consider the unanswerables, and I contemplate how terrible we all really are to each other.

I walk back to my ivory-tower office, the October fog threatening to turn to rain.

0 thoughts on “I close my letter but never my love

  1. I’ve watched him write.

    He feigns indiference as he jocks it up with the homeboys

    Domino’s Drowned out the pain

    for awhile.

    He takes a while for each sentence. reads it back to himself

    next time will be different.

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