2001-04-02.2:42 p.m.
a letter unsent - Tuesday, August 03, 1999 5:05:04 PM
Dear Marty, Andy and Heather,
I should have told you a few things while you were out here, Dave Blank tends to dominate conversations. It takes me a very long time to open up to people. I am too shy for someone who performs. You really could have eaten as much as you wanted from the fridge. The cat tends to be a pain, the rat tends to be noisy (when she woke me up the other night, I decided to move her)
I should have told you to listen outside the window at 5 am - hear the city waking. Notice Julia a woman across the street who works third shift pulling up before the city the windows behind her glow red Maudlin red, hearth and fire kiln red it's from the television and the fish tank just inside but it's pretty non-the-less
little bubbles skip up the glass
I should have told you to listen to our sound of constant twilight just outside the window evening hushing into distant highways & breeze a car alarm
side street footfalls mixed with engine, belt, and lifter nock a dog barking
a door shutting engines bodiless rushing away all distance all a gentle soothing humming standing at the end of the driveway You can see
the capital It's white but looks gray at night Lit by lights illuminating the dome
It reminds me of Washington My mother lived near there, but I've never been
I should have told you more
that you can hear foot steps on the stairs when they're really people a floor above tricks of sound on old wood old houses & somehow my floor is bowing up it reminds me of old converted Worcester Mills the oil of 50 years of hard work / honest work sanded and varnished just enough to leave enough character for office workers to admire or poets to notice
That gently like water cracking stone, you changed people
That roaring like a riot surging, you impressed people
That simply, you'll be missed
Yes, I should have told you more�
Yours in Providence,
John Powers
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