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Remember when we were ten and pricked our index fingers, strangled them, breathless, until they became a bloody Cyclops and sloppily bonded them together? You moved four years later, and I never saw you until the other day, bored at work succumbing to Facebook again. Your shaved head, mosaic skull tattoos, and double birds made it difficult to recognize my friend. I recalled that day in Ms. Barrett's class when we straightened and sharpened staples becoming family: —The two-story, built-in pool, white boy—The two bedroom, blow-up pool, Latino "Brothers Forever…" However the emblazoned swastika branded on your left wrist, broadcast we lost touch long ago.

                                                                                                   Your friend,
                                                                                                   Danny