dear Trudy

i heard about the tests —
you poor thing! that old saying
gets trotted out too much — “God only
gives us as much as we can
handle” — more like God takes as
much as he thinks we’ll do without,
or God only gives us trouble, or
God wears white after labor day!
with a poorly matched jacket! or
i don’t know. when i blaspheme,
words fail me. the best i’ve got is
when life gives you lemons
they can always be rotten.

best of luck with the kidney donor,
Frankie with the sweaters (two cubicles down)

dear Joy,

i miss the smell of your food
as it simmers in our kitchen — herbs
and spices tangled in ways only you
can decipher, with some master’s codex,
which you probably wrote anyway —

it’s hard these days. everything is burnt.
i’ll figure out how to get by on
protein bars and protein shakes and
freezer meals — at this point i’m
surrounded (by plastic and cardboard).
i tried, i really did, to make those
recipes you left on the dresser before
you went away, and they don’t taste
like anything. it’s all sand for me.

i suppose when you’re home
it’ll be like you never left,
until you leave again.

so do you know yet? when you’ll
be back? there’s some sort of
gunk on the fish tank and i
can’t get it off. these awful hands,
all broken up. i’m afraid
the goldfish won’t make it
another week.

the air weighs heavier every day without you,
Kitty

dear Uncle Harry,

could you tell me —
am i going to be popping
the same six pimples
for the rest of my life?

let me know,
Jane

dear Frankie,

saw the note you left with the paint chips. first off,
i think arctic whisper has a
charmed mystique that
suits the bathroom.

and i do know what you mean
when you said all we do is
run ourselves through
woodchippers like logs
then chunks then splinters then
back in over and over and
over, ’til we’re dust and dustier.
i think it’s about the woodchipper
being so sturdy it never breaks.

something like that.

thanks for dinner last week,
Doug (the florist)

dear Jeremiah,

you’re probably too busy flicking
boogers to bother, but
while i’m away, could you
feed my exotic turtles? food’s
in the fridge, like last time.
Exxon gets a small dish (labeled)
and Holly likes greens. try not to
eat their food in a salad
again. i’ll never know how you just
totally missed the mealworms.

and if you get a chance
go outside sometime. the trees
are wearing just the right amount
of snow today.

hope the new medicine treats you well,
Mickey

dear Tabby,

sunk the car today (sorry) and
i know you’ll be mad (about the car
which is ditch-lodged, deep)
and i know we’ll talk about
how to cover insurance hikes
but you’ve got to hear me out.
remember that nature show we
watched on our honeymoon?
the one in that dingy motel
where we’d ended up because
the rental died and we missed check-in
at “the nice place” and on that
motel TV it was just one channel
clear, the rest all fuzz?

well, some ways roadside, i saw the owl
(from that show) which got me thinking
about that motel, and i guess
i daydreamed myself into a ditch
thinking about you.

still “deeply” in love,
Crusher

dear Gut,

it’s a shame we haven’t
talked in so long. at least
not like we used to. i know
you’ve been off work
and i’ve been unreachable
and it’s like we live perhaps
a planet or two apart.
still, it’s hard to live like this.
maybe someday we won’t
be so far from each other.

maybe someday
i’ll stop giving myself the runs
with some mystery food
and finally make it to one of our
meet-ups.

cheers from the hospital (again),
Your Neglectful Lover

dear Greta Lee,

terrible news today. seems they’ve
revived that old show you used to love.
remember how you said — oh
what were the words again —
that sure tied up like a country ham!
or look no further, folks,
(spoken to an empty room where
you look around at imagined crowds
that nod & clap & goad you on)
pie in the sky perfection! or was it
what a way to give a DOG his BONE!

i’m not sure i remember too well now but
it’s back, with the same lead even though he’s
aged like the cushion of a well-sat couch.

you were always so expressive.

call me when you get into town,
Sister Winnie

dear Florence,

are you holding up okay
since the procedure?
everyone asks about you
at the pool. dina in particular
drained her savings to buy
“got well soon” truffles for
you even though we don’t
see you anymore. we miss your
ancient neon one pieces
and your witticisms about
grover cleveland. or was it
james garfield? the one
with the cilantro… it went like
well, you know,

anyhow, i hope it was the stitches
and not something i said. if you’re
still working at the call center
maybe i’ll drop you a line.

toodles,
Marie St. June

dear Jonesy,

when you left the tv on
(all day) the other day
i didn’t even think —
not once! not for a second —
about those clementines.
you addressed the ceiling,
desperate, “someone,
anyone but me, eat these
before they go.” and i nodded
and i sat down to watch re-runs
and i barely ate all day
and you were right. about the
oranges, which were ready to jump.
not that other thing.

anyways. do you know why every day lately
i find bent up nails in the kitchen?
it’s like my foot is a metal detector.

walking on not-quite eggshells,
S. Crumb