i started a letter to martha
midway down market street
this afternoon, while rem-
embering the sequestered
and how my best friend
would say to me (later
in the day): rest assured,
i love to nap. the graffiti
i passed was no longer
the headache that i had
wished away last night
and the night before
last. it wasn’t even
my headache. but then,
how did i get here in
the first place? did
i jump into this rabbit-
hole voluntarily? i do
get side-tracked when
my head is abuzz,
the synapses seem-
ingly snapping away
at my dreams with
their tiny glimmering
fangs. so greedy!
the milk was good
enough for the cereal
this morning (hallelujah,
he types to me — as
always thoughtful and
deliberate — while won-
dering whether it’s
chocolate or straw-
berry flavored, the
milk for which we are
rejoycing...perhaps? i’m
so trying to get inside of
his maneuvering ticks!).
deliberately thoughtful is
something someone like
me can only aspire to
(is this really true? i
can’t help but
figure. also, be-
ing thoughtfully del-
iberate. none of these
are the same thing at
all. and that makes me
love graffiti even more.
or at least enough to dis-
tract me into stopping
and snapping at it with
my little monster — no
offense). i get side-
tracked easily.
dear bff, do not
be alarmed by the
giant-sized laugh-
out-loud emoji
standing next
to me like my
protector, like
my guardian angel.
statistical data
have revealed that
he is none other
than my bff!
but i certainly
didn’t need
to squash any
statistics to be
well aware
of that!
