I Hope you’re doing well
By Andrew Garison
Her handwriting is so foreign to me now
Scrawled across the crinkly brown packaging
Like hieroglyphics on a tomb wall.
But her gift came with no ancient curses
No pining for the days of dorm room love
Of Simon and Garfunkel crooning from the stereo
Or the wishful thinking we once held as gospel.
She still manages to send subtle
Twangs through my heart strings
But those months of silence, emotional codeine
Numbed my more sentimental sensibilities.
I take these things carefully in my hands:
Books I hardly missed, loaned out
Expecting that they’d always be near–
Shorts that still carry the smell of her sheets.
With this gift, our story is done
She’s given me all she can
And the best I can manage in this moment
Is to return her parting sentiment:
I hope you’re doing well