Letters to L

Dear L,
I saw your father today. He was sitting on the curb by your house and when he saw me he told me, there's something wrong with the dog. He told me your dog wouldn't walk beside him anymore, that he insisted on walking ahead. He must be tired, I said, and he asked me where my shoes were.

Dear L,
I saw your mother today. She asked me how the house was coming and I told her you had collected all the bricks and tiles we would need and that the house was coming fine.

Dear L,
Today my father told me, there's a dead tree I need to cut down, do you want to come? I went to the passenger side of the truck and he said, you bring your notepad, so I did. I sat on the bench staring at the birch trees, wondering what it would be like to be like them.

Dear L,
I was looking through the drawers today and I decided that I like the spaces between us more than I used to. We are never full from each other, and that is good (gluttony is a sin, you know). The spaces between us leave us room for our shoulders and our knees.

Dear L,
When I think of you I see green, peach, magenta and scarlet, like the colour of my coat the other night and the colour in my face when you ask me that. I would like to take you into the woods and pour needles over your toes, and tell you that I miss you.