A Letter

Thumb hurt, neck hurt, eyes hurt, heart sang, I wrote a letter, on the leather patterned paper.

I hope it reach you--the person handling my package was insulted since I insisted on seeing him put it in the padded envelope. So it is all fate now.

Is this seventh-grade love stricken behavior or urban tales of love and pain?

I was told foreigners love differently on this land.

Here is more proof of that--I wrote a letter and I watch world cup.

Or I just really love you.