Letters

 
Inspired by this picture taken by Margaret Durow:

It's a nervous habit
to consume one's own soul.
That's what she always told me,
whether we were knee deep
in the suds of the ocean
or trawling for deals
amidst the stumbling masses
of wily, veteran shoppers
and their peripherals.

She writes me letters,
or at least she used to.
In each one I heard tones,
her musical hands moving
in circles across the page.
On rainy Sunday afternoons
I may still be found asleep,
lulled by the soft, verdant joy
of her slow script.
_________________________________________________

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
St. Vincent, Cruel