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Where must those letters be?
Letters written on stormy nights
I sent to many a destination
but never got a reply
or even a confirmation…
The twelve-page-long letter
I sent to that tall giraffe-like boy
who would sit with me till
past midnight talking much
of celibacy and D.H. Lawrence
in the same breath, yet he
was afraid of the balm of touch…

So many letters after that
some harsh some soft
In one there would be
banishment from my life
in another things
would be made all right
One letter would want
that my books be sent back
the other one would
follow a different track…

Perhaps these letters
I sent after stormy nights
to many a destination
were written to myself
Why then did I look
for a reply
or a confirmation…?