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I've lost the count
Not a betting man
Maybe the dealer'll take it in buttons and those scotch mints my grandmother kept in her purse to keep our mouths busy in church
To keep me from pointing out the cracks in the story
I read your book
And I have a few suggestions
Apparently there were no line editors in the first century
Lost the plot
Continuity holes you can't drive over
Don't ask if I have religion
It's not worth it
I've knocked on doors too you know
And I've worked in a sematary
I've seen bones turn to ash in the oven and watched widows weep
What are parents called when their only child dies
Are they still parents
I think so
Even when they're left with only one another to hold
Grief is the only truly sustainable resource we have
And I can tell you're running on a full tank

Title photo by Florian Klauer
https://unsplash.com/photos/-K6JMRMj4x4