dear Cassie,

things i meant to say:
bye, see ya later!, nice
jacket, it complements —
see ya round — because i
intended to and you are not,
unfortunately, here
all week. if you’ll
excuse the exercise,
let’s shift to hypothetical:

i fear the ease with
which i may (probably)
slip into saying something
stupid. so stupid, it’d
put me in the hospital
like if i smelled burnt toast
and my face drooped
halfways down, the two
halves of me a street
gone from one-way to
two-way traffic — ahem!
            i was afraid
            of this
i said nothing.
the white flag internal.
consider it waved! surrender —
my heart cried mutiny.

the summer was young, and
so was i. how could i have
known you’d leave town
for junior high!

you were the best babysitter, honest,
Dale

dear Dr. Frank,

when i think of two
dogs jostling for a stick
in the park, i get this
curious ache in my arm,
around the bicep. i have
no dog, yet it seems a
part of me holds leashes
            and the leashes are taut
                        and the bark park fence
                        strains and the small dogs
            squeal like piglets in mud.
if i’m not anywhere
in particular, with any
particular thoughts
i am at the bark park.

i think (hope) this is all
perfectly normal. suppose
we could medicate it away. . .
            but the window’s down, doc!
            i hang my head out!
            i lap up the breeze! i bark
            at passing cars! perhaps
                        in our next appointment
                        we’ll find out these are all
                        past-life memories. me,
                        a dumb-old, free-old, happy
                                    old dog.

see you thursday afternoon,
Teddy

dear Clara,

i’m stuck on the image of you
last week, asleep at the window.
just before you dozed off, you said
            so serene in the sunlight
and you ended up with this
goofy tan line on your neck,
from the choker i gave you.
you stood in the mirror to see —
i think the way you put it was
            looks like i’ve been hung
            by the world’s gentlest
            executioner
and we laughed, quietly, about being
hung with strands of leftover ribbon,
the craft store clearance scraps.

thought of you because
while i was driving home, that
fugees song — about killing me softly
with whatever — came on the radio
and i had to pull over to laugh.

please give your turtles a kiss for me (even though they stink),
Aidan

dear Jessie,

it was nice to read your letter
last week. i’ve been so bored
around the house since my surgery.
guess you could call me
agoraphobic, though it’s not
me that fears leaving the house
so much as it is my body. does that
make me a homebody instead?
suppose i’m not sure how far you
can stretch a word. i am healin up
alright though, thanks for asking.
all in good time, as they say.

let me know if you’ve got
ideas for Cam’s birthday. haven’t
heard from her since before and
you know she’s hard to shop for.

see ya round, when i get around,
Amy

dear May,

do you believe in wishes?
i can hardly wrap my head
around them. i s’pose it’s maybe
d’you think i mess it up somehow?
shooting stars, birthday candles,
11:11 — i wish, i do what’s expected.
how come nothin’s come up my way?
the common rule is not to tell,
and i don’t tell anybody ‘cept
my cats. maybe they count. i dunno.
i’m startin to feel like the tree that
falls with nothin in the forest to
hear it. HI, i say. HELLO. anyone?
do wishes go anywhere if no one’s
there to hear them? am i in the midst
of a forest fallin all around me,
eyes shut and ears plugged? would i
know enough to spot the difference?
do you?

hope we get to go bowling again next tuesday,
Piper