Dear John,
You're a good dude and we go way back. Remember playing hooky, man, school was made whack. Spitting on parked cars as we'd walk. Chucking rocks down the block just as a car would pass, god, every ding was laughing gas. We were nuts John, Putting gum under the latch so when they'd open up their car... Not sure why, but we would laugh. Never nothing serious, though we sure came close. Demons on the loose purchasing balloons, we tied them to a cup with a lizard and a string. Aghhhh! Worth remembering. When he jumped he must've been a hundred feet, and that SMACK! Just think man, guy hardly weighed a thing. Or how about the time we made that trip, only this time filled them up with piss. Now the trick was blowing up the balloons before putting them around your dick. I remember you chasing Liz, that butch bitch, and when she finally was cornered, SPLAT!! One just missed; but that splatter off the brick hit her in the face. HA! and she licked some of that shit. That summer you left a kid, visiting your cousin on a trip. When you returned you were a man with the taste of living just a bit. You smoked your first sack, a good night started right. You toked that wooden pipe and coughed til you dropped a lung. You never told no one, about how you lay'd convulsing as you breathed. Struggling just to raise up to your feet. Strange, cuz, your thoughts were running free. Your brain tingled til it let you go... Oh this feeling was appealing to your soul. In just a finger snap you were looking to relapse. You returned bragging bout some dome but should've known. When you played tag you'd let them catch just so you could grab some ass. Rosie cheeks were oh so sweet, you kissed and always told. Under twenty one without control. Them flashing lights, such a fucking bitter glow. You lost a car and license but gained a different type of bar that also failed to enlighten. I'm saying, what the fuck happened? Once upon a time you were a good one. Living life but probly shouldn't. Well listen, angels aren't just Christians. In fact, one is yours and she's about to blow a piston. She's a perfect gift, she's pure and she exists. Don't fuck this one up or your dead to me.
Sincerely,
John