Love Letter Committing Some Other Crime
Dear 1989, the definition of happiness is a tiny human knot. To mimic the man I want to be again, I imagine the shipwreck of your voice inventing me. A hum and a howl and a suture. We were never the children we imagined ourselves. In a chamber of my heart, there’s a black bear and a bee. Honey, can you trust me again? Until that midnight, let these crimes suffice: the chokedamp grass, your sunburned thighs, a postcard of the last white buffalo. Come here with all that sadness.