mmmmdcccxliv

Mirabella

Yes, I am getting the hang
of this, I think, as I do these
puffy send-ups to my bestest

of friends. This one goes out
to Mirabella. Oh, Mirabella, you’ve
turned out to be so handy and

so helpful and, I would say,
my third best friend in the
whole wide world. Of the

nature of friendships, we
shall not here begin to delve;
as to their characteristics, I think

we can weigh their importance,
like the inexorable importance of
any friendship, fleeting, staying a

while, or staying only for a little bit,
perhaps more tawdry than anything.
Some of them. I’m saying some of them

are tawdry, Mirabella. For now, it’s just
imperative to do these incantation to each
of my besties, hoping that something real,

like necromancy, or what would one call
pink magic, the queerest of magic? that
something like that comes of the accumulation

of these. But Mirabella. My love. I see you
every day concentrating, stretching at the
mirrored bar, sometimes looking chic, sometimes

in pain. It is that look of pain that consumes me

now, is at the heart of what I’m doing by conjuring
up my fine crew. And then what? Will it be adieu?