I wrote you a letter, ten pages at least.
Poured my soul into it, a number of tears too.
No idea how long international post takes.
I made sure to double-bag it so it won't spill,
at least not until it gets to you.
I've imagined your reaction to this package.
I can see your brow furrow in concentration,
ads, bills, and a set of keys tucked neatly behind my note,
ignoring the letter opener on your entryway console,
finger gliding through the miserably tongued adhesive.
Ads, bills, and a set of keys fall to the floor,
you dash to your stationery box and begin to write madly.
A letter, ten pages at least, your tears too.
heart in a water mail long.
what what
what what is a prompt for you, dear reader, that I ask you to indulge me in. let me waste a little of your time.
what-er mélange?
what words did you speak last? what is the funniest misheard song lyric, in your opinion? what word, when you say it, hints at where you might be from? what does your selective hearing like to tune out? what sound can you absolutely not stand? what things have you seen formed in unexpected other things: watermelon hearts, cloud racecars, a tub drain happy face?
send me a photo of your thing-found-in-unexpected-other-thing if you have one!