A Harvest of Letters
It was a road trip steeped in letters. Reflective letters on highway signs. And stunted exit markers. Digital letters blinking on the dash; fictional letters winking inside my head. Letters carried inside a battered typewriter case. And in my back pocket. Some were meant for outright dismissal. Especially the hypothetical ones. The ones yet to be written were better off being cheerfully ignored. Because words only seem to cause chaos these days. And I’m getting a little too old for those kinds of literary shenanigans. Other letters were destined for a final delivery. Into the embrace of the coal-barged currents of the mighty Ohio. The ones carefully bundled up in a bright red ribbon. Because they deserved a little recognition. And a cheery reward after having …
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