Hahaha! But, see, that’s exactly where the shared weirdness dwells. No one in my personal life on Earth really gives a shit that I write. After all these years a family member will read something I wrote and be shocked that know how to write. I’ve got no one I ever physically talk abut poetry with, much less what I’ve written. Even the women who inspire the words I write aren’t (with one past exception) interested in my words. They don’t know or appreciate me as a writer or poet.
Yet, I’ve never sat down with you, never said “hello” where you could hear, but I know that you are a beautiful person.
Alpha Centauri, it’s a hell of a place.