Aurelio,
This rum is good and fiery. Let me tell you how I’ve been.
It’s always late when I think of you. I don’t know why. I take shots in the dark and arrive on the same images every time. Summer nights over a bonfire, roasting tortilla smores. Trivia on the odd Tuesday, coming up with a good answer. Once in New York, wandering illuminated streets. Now in filtered incandescence, wondering. I don’t know how many more letters you will see before we’re together again. I leave these notes at your door, it’s all been said before. A simple sentence, three words. Older than language, old as mankind. It was a thousand years, then a century, but then just a tenth of that.
September 10th, 2010. You are nothing to me but a distant miracle in an unknowable future. I’m at Bethel Elementary, thinking I’ll go home and play Nintendo. On this day, a new saudade captures a feeling I have yet to describe in English. There had doubtlessly been many like it and many since, but these are the lyrics of Patri…
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