I meant to write you sooner but I’ve been up to my teeth in amoxicillin. You know what they say. They say hesitation will kill you, said the bike seer as gears churned smooth and if i can’t see your eyes well then it’s a lie to say i love you. It’s too soon.
But I meant to write you sooner, 88. I mean it, I meant to write you about the snow. I hope you don’t think my question about the snowshoes is too forward, too close. It’s just that I imagine on such a small island you could traverse it all so pleasantly without plunging in and you could breathe heavy and deep and your breath would disintegrate the cold little by little, by huff and by puff and peeks of pine trees would wink at you through that plush blanket of white stuff and when you smile your teeth would be chameleon bright with little bits of smoked fish in between look like shadows look like soft light.
Remember when we talked about motorcycles, 88? Or maybe that was 83, but I had this vision of you speeding down some sweltering Cambodian highway your hair greasy and landscape so lush but pavement sunbleached, that heat radiating. Maybe it’s no good to share these. The montage credits I keep for my vision of you my perception all warped cuz I’m beach lizard cold blooded.
Anyways. Have you read your horoscope today? Mine says I’m sitting on a pincushion and it’s best that I’m alone. What do you think? I don’t know your birthday but I’d guess you’re scorpio. If so, it says “Passion is on your mind today.” It says, “You could learn some rather surprising things this evening, though nothing that changes your feelings.”
How do you feel about the snow?