J.C., If I had known you
were going to be
gone this long I could

have been something
dramatic. Maybe
you fold me. I want

to party last night.
Under Delancey street
Some people from blinding

headache on the roof.
Someone slipped me
Some speed so

I wrecked. Made everyone
dance me round. I’m
eighteen today a big

day. Blinding headache.
They loud enough
with battery power.

I’m writing you. I don’t
know where to send.
I thought you. Visiting

family? Virginia? I stole
lunch from Chinatown but
I got home

couldn’t figure.
Few trees here
turn brown.

    how this place will
be in winter. Not so hot,
ha! I hope it gets

you. I find a few cents, postage
I write anthrax in big on the out.