I can’t be torn like this pulled between the love of my life and a high and mighty father he does things he shouldn’t his rulership is final I’m moving out in the box go pictures I’ve drawn a few notes Jack sent very few actually as he’s dyslexic letters from my first boyfriend, Bill who moved to Alaska letters from Kiko Matsuaka and Dorolthy Foo, Asian pen pals a stack from Mike Ralf, my brother’s Marine buddy we’ve written each other for two years. airmail envelops stamped Viet Nam I built the box from scrap wood I found in the basement dad followed me around, watching he said the box wasn’t square I didn’t answer him, just kept building I lined it with black velvet a special place for my keepsakes the outside is painted green glued along the top edge, ornate gold trim a safe place to keep my treasures it'll sit in the closet of my new apartment, once I find one.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
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