And again. It's a weekend thing.

Letter to —

I am thankful to be the first but cannot reply
in kind due to a lack of technology; gun-metal
heavy and courier grey. Take instead my hand.
My mistakes will be visible. There are things
you won't learn from me this way but they are far-between.

I appreciate the time you have taken not spent
over steaming conversation and coffee cups. I am flattered
you would think me worthy of four and a half pages
of meticulous tippex correction and mistakes left
for my own imagination. Please do not count mine.

I must admit I read your words in an unconventional position:
my hips now hurt and this translates into a wonky r.
I am indeed smiling—how would you know
but to make me do so with flattery? My hair, as an aside,
is growing as normal and is due to be cut tomorrow.

Well done on the job. I think it is not luck but courage:
I will bring my own when next I'm south. I'll try not to infringe
but bear in mind the pub you promised. Please can we carry
the typewriter with us and clickclack letter-lessons in the sun?
I will happily exchange for an education in verse-types.

Yours, —