Wednesday, December 10, 2009: On the Street….Tan & Silver, Milano

The taste of the envelope lingered against my teeth
all morning: chemical, dry, slightly sweet.

My words were sticky, flavored with that glue.
I can’t recall what my letter told you, exactly,

just the way the black ink of certain consonants and
punctuation marks bled through the back of the paper,

proof of my hand’s varying pressure, of my lack
of complete control over each form of my voice.