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).
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