Dr. Angelou

Madame,

I wrote to you when I thought spare and clean could help restore a measure recognizable to one who cares.  Invisible ink and tears blowing up snot in certain circles to redbrick flour lining my steps and Daddy reeled because he knew.  I wrote and millers mud cake tainted boots, booked me on hot flights from that hell.  I wrote on crossed knee, engines swirling sciatically inferior, but I knew.  Dr. Angelou I licked greens in the forest, four years before I knew your light crackled creeks to swell heightening degrees.

Go.  Do not miss anyone else.

Thank you.

 

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