In a matter of moments, maybe in two or three, or later tomorrow, a letter will be written with words like a puzzle, and then sealed and sent to you. You won’t notice any of this until a blue postal man knocks at your door asking for a signature.
It was years ago – on a day like today that you received a letter much like this from a mystery that lived far away – through its door, down a hall, and then up some stairs – where smoke filled a room with curlicues of laughter.
A fragment of that memory and a small bit of its sound hiss from the envelope as you open and read what had wanted to be forgotten – a mink, the smell of perfume and your body trembling with pleasure…like a fountain.
Across the street – from a window seemingly covered by a curtain, a camera recorded this past for you, tracing the pantomime of your lips saying, I love you and I will be with you forever, and it does this until the windows steam over.
In the letter is a lock of your hair and the key back to your heart and a picture of you saying life is better than sorrow – and now it seems someone wants you to remember this echo, your shadow and the impression your lips made in clay.
Now, what to do with your hands – where to go with your heart – how to disappear or not appear affected by your disobedience, your choosing to live, instead of being lulled by this letter to be his chaste and loyal woman forever.