about a correspondence

a friend of mine
from a madhouse
wrote me
that he
got out
in time to attend
William Saroyan’s
funeral
and found it
dreary.

I wrote him back,
“stay on your
medication, jump
back three squares
land on Turgenev
and remember the
Alamo.”

he wrote back,
“Mr. Death has a
fat ass
a wearing dick
and
hates sunshine.”

I have not yet
responded but
hope to think of
something
soon.

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