To: 7208 Day St, San Francisco, CA

By
My endings are always better so
I’ll begin with a P.S.

P.S. You left your jacket on my doorstep
yesterday
withered and matted by rain
ran inside too fast at the first drizzle

You also left your car keys
but I know that doesn’t matter
because your Uncle taught you how
to hotwire a couple months ago

(You practiced twice on my Volvo, remember?)

Did I tell you, yet,
how our music left holes in the ceiling
raining plaster, noisy hail storm?

And how the dead flower you gave me
Still sits on my desk, fermenting

(It was for prom, brought it a day late)

I remember the water reached the west coast
right when you arrived and
the colors began to slowly melt into

una mezcla de bellaza

You taught me Spanish

and I sputtered the alphabet
as I began to melt too

It was then when you realized
you had lost your keys
and returned to your car
to find them

this is how you happened to stay dry and solid

See, I am writing to you from a puddle
reduced to nothing but a muddle of wispy dreams and woven crayon colors



Turning everything around
in this mixture of what remains
so, here we’ve been brought back to the beginning

My dear tomorrow:

Its been so long
Since we last talked





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