I need to put a stamp on it.
You talk to a friend overseas.
You remember the good-old days.
Wait, you have no memories to speak of except one.
So, how can you claim to be friends.
You only met once at an airport where you shared cigarettes and a few beers.
You remember her taking you to a cyber-cafe where you became friends on Facebook.
A bit of time passes and you see postings online from this new friend.
You look at them as curiosity is a part of life.
And then you start the conversation—it’s sporadic at best.
A “hello” here and a “how are you” there.
You chat some more and things start to develop.
A friendship emerges.
More questions are asked and more answers surface.
You both have different romantic relationships and then they come to an end. Now you both have sorrow and something to share. This is a real conversation now.
Both agree that a physical correspondence will be very welcome.
You decide to write her a beautiful poem.
And she decides to send you a drawing.
So now, you have a very-special, hand-written poem to send off to Paris.
You need to put it in an envelope and place a stamp on it.
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