and really you know like

An I’d hoped to come visiting again sooner.  And you—of all people—know how they get.  And, well, I just can’t borrow a horse to go gallivanting whenever I desire.

I intended to write you, really.  But my folks really keep tabs on their stamps and I really hardly ever get any privacy.   Really.

I’z gonna, you know, call.  But my parents were—yaknow—home an-all, you know.  An I still ain’t got a phone in my room yet ya know.

I was like gonna text, but, like my parents were all—like—‘too many minutes’ and like took away my cell.  So, I was like, whatever.

armistice day

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month we remember the end of a war, veterans who served, soldiers who still serve and, essomenically, the little children yet-to-be who'll serve and die (or live to remember) their defense of our country or their acts of aggression against citizens of other countries, in all-the-many future American wars, insurrections, police actions, peace-keeping missions, and acts of imperialism—legitimate and illegitimate (the wars that-is, not the children; nobody calls children illegitimate anymore...we're all bastards, we Americans who begin a new conflict, on average, every five years).