post haste

received an actual letter yesterday from jules. it’s strange, these days, to receive things handwritten. notes rather than email. settling, sometimes to be able to hold on to something that real. he gets that and it makes him rare and wonderful. makes me want to bite down on something hard.

and it wasn’t an actual letter, which might be impossible for jules to manage. just words. written in black charcoal pencil on the back of one of those green receipt pads. the handwritten kind. he ordered a bowl of Pho at the place we used to go on the Ave. the edges of the words on the left hand side – slightly blurred. the lettering is small and hard to read. he’s written the word manic in huge block letters across the top. then this:

dolce –

there’s a woman here wearing a very pale violet shirt.
her hair is a mess and i’d rather eat my steaming noodles
than . . .
do you ever wonder how certain colors taste
that l- lavender reminds me of you
but do you think it would taste sticky and sweet like taffy

salty smooth sin
would / you / want to drink it down like warm milk
the word is enough to fill my mouth full stop whisper
it to me over the phone and you’ll know what i mean

this word is in my head. natant. that woman left.
i’m off to buy flowers at the market. pansies.

yours
j.