Dear Adam

I said cake
I said top hat
I said microphone
four little golden baby heads
wait I said pirate ghost
wait wait I said closed eye smiling cat
he scrawled back oh my god
I thought fuck yeah I can read this at the marathon
he said Eileen smiles
ehhh I can use it
the bell of my computer rang
same message
wait the cat is crying with relief
the cat is a devil now
the cat is not mad
the cat making racialized jazz
uh or not my white hands
I’m talking to everyone now.
and I’m using a filter. No I’m not
I acknowledge that there is an
image of me twice. I only recently
learned the term jazz hands
if we fucked Pennsylvania up what is our
hope to live in a stolen country that was always stolen
and worked largely by stolen people. Out of a
conservative
diaspora came I mongrel poet from Massachusetts
to make my mark
love & these things and opportunities
to speak. We can’t fall down we teem in the new
opportunity
we discover what resistance means
our time & blowing up the inside of my computer
buck studies
the phone says delivered
what is.
Adam says did you see my beard.
We talk about money awhile
I ride my bike. Get off the phone goes
ding. It’s his beard calling. I go oh.
you have what I want.
he says lol
then skull
then rocket
then turkey
green pistol
and a flame. I
don’t know what to say back to that
I say bike and go.