Beautiful Idiot
I’m not going to think about this too much because if I do, I won’t write it.  20 minutes tops… here goes: This letter is not a letter but a rant, a rub, a flag. It’s graffiti across my 40 something belly, ragged in permanent marker so it fades slowly, my shriek with no parachute, sprawled wide, turbulent and free, the dark velvet of Guiness spilling across the bar. Bartender smiles. He’s seen…
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