One More Love Letter
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
One more love letter in the canon with the others that got no response. The words were put down for the one that got away, and she still gets away, swimming faster from the bottle corked with your message inside. All your words pass under her eye (you’re lucky they get that far) and after the first reading, she’s finished. This world has become so unromantic and immediate – it’s a bottle of wine two, three years old, no more. You take a pull straight from its top, alone on the couch first, the bedroom next (too depressing), back to the living room on the same sweaty cushions as before, and finally the bottle dumped in a fresh trash bag – a hollow drop to the bottom – finally back to bed for the night, this time, and the memory movies play over and over. Oh shit, this is just the beginning. The stale letter crisping already in her hand and the small paradise you’d hoped to build flaking to the floor. Let the pieces spread. Let the next woman come along, but this time don’t tell her you’re a writer. Then maybe she’ll be impressed in the final moments when you can communicate so clearly, so emotionally. If she knows you’re practiced at the craft, the words will mean a lot less.
