BIRTHDAY
LETTER
It is your birthday, again, and I have
nothing
to say, again, except that
I cried briefly in the car today after
getting off the phone with Mom, though
I never
thought to do anything weird, like run
my car into a pole or the ditch.
I wondered if you knew
any of what I was thinking, and then,
as you know,
I considered the birds for a moment,
sunning themselves in puddles near
the underpass.
Brett Elizabeth Jenkins