Dear Friend,

I got your message this morning. After I read it I read it again.

I don't know how to respond except to say that the hole is getting bigger.

I looked at the christmas tree today. Looked at the old, bare branches. I looked at the sorry decorations hanging off the limp and barren limbs and the lights that are all different sizes and colours. It looked weathered.

It looked like a cheap whore.

And I cried for it.

Love always,

A Poet