The Wilco Letter

So, Boys, Almost one year ago, this month. I spent my fourth of July on a little canoe in the middle of that lake, with a crazy fireworks competition going on, with Scott and Ryan. And about fifty old crazy drunk men.. on the shores, Firing off cannons of destruction, freedom, and flame. I went by plane, and not by ambulance, as was planned. I spent the night before in that rickety old place, they call, "Congress",To escape the planned coldness of an educated man. To escape his return of rejection. I met the writer of haikus, which was planned. I tripped on roller skates, as was planned. I fit, which was a complete surprise. I wore an old slip. I had one of "my headaches".  Of which I am so embarrassed. I loved a man.  Which was un~planned. As murderously ugly as things turn out in this world, Like fans who sneak on you without bouncers... I wouldn't trade my last July. My Independance Day. In escaping Tucson's heat, I also escaped it's coldness. My love to the girl, Cake.