Genre: Prose Poem, Experimental
dear luka,
i started this letter saying how very busy i am. the thing is, i've never bought that excuse, so i won't use it here. there's always time for things that matter and you, my friend, well most of you, matter.
so here's the deal:
i lost my phone and i don't have anyone's cellphone number anymore. that's why i'm not calling.
i'm not going out anymore. so that's why you won't see me out this weekend.
i'm not drinking anymore. so i can't get a drink with you.
i'm not doing drugs anymore. so i can't do drugs with you.
i'm saving money to get myself out of the city for a while. so i can't go shopping, or do lunch (unless you make it - from scratch).
but i am doing things like, say, going to the park. so i can do things like that with you. so if any of this makes sense to you, and you still feel like we might things in common, then give me a call - but state your name, because it's been really awkward for me - you know, playing the "heeey.... what's up?... uh" game when everyone that calls has a 917, 212, or 315 area code.
-moore
