Dear writer-friend [insert name here]:
I planned to go to your reading all week.
I even washed my hair this morning, but
it doesn’t look like I’m going to make it.
It’s too complicated to explain in an email,
and no matter what I say it will sound like
I’m just making excuses, but here goes:
I’ve got two deadlines at once this week.
And an absentee husband, on account of
there’s a high-end audio tradeshow in town.
I’ve got to walk the dog and I haven’t yet.
And then I’ve got to take something over
to someone who’s inconveniently leaving
town tomorrow and needs this thing by then.
Stupidly, I haven’t eaten anything all day.
It’s almost 6:30 already in Mile End and
your reading starts at 7 downtown.
Sorry.
Good lick tonight. I mean good luck.
Some typos just have to be left in.
JR
. . . . .