in General

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.

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  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.