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.