I got your e-mail yesterday and my heart
must tell you, dear, your two-dimensional words
do not express alleged passion. E-mails offer no electric
shocks. And if you really cared,
you would have sent a three-dimensional
letter. I adore your tilting script,
which you reserve for people less
important. Would it kill you to take the time
and write dear you, a line, and maybe love, me?
Or is that me asking you for far too much?
You know that thrill when you open your mailbox
and there are stacks of mysterious envelopes?
Sometimes seeing a love note heightens that thrill,
even when sitting amongst the clutter, flyers, bills, and dust.
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