My Dearest Wigleaf:

Allow me to explain.

1/20/09. Inauguration Day. 9:37 AM. Zeke's Deli, Philadelphia, PA. 23.4 degrees Fahrenheit.

Steam on the windows. Lone strand of hash brown curled on the vinyl seat.

-No, not hardly. Every single day and why? Why now?

-He still owe me $19.

-Yes, you do. Every day you ask me for money.

When I finally lay me to rest, going to the place that's the best.

-His hair look beautiful. Did you comb it?

-Yeah, I combed it.

-I took a small cup of coffee, Mark. That okay?

-Good stuff. Thanks.

Going to the place that's the best.

-Really? That'd be awesome.

-I was kind of racist and confused.

-Join the club, sweetie. Making time.

-More hot water for tea?

How does the Caribbean sound?

-Probably spray myself into my eyes and stab myself.

-Because I'm a professional.

-Exactly. Thank you, have a good one.

-More hot water?

-No, I'm good.

I'm so into you, honey. Tell me everything.

Fondly,

piers.






- - -

Read PM's story, "Deserve."

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