i sent you twenty dollars in an envelope yesterday because the thought of you eating in soup kitchens, stirring lonely bowls of clam chowder makes me feel sad. i imagine that you will probly buy drugs with it, but it made me happy to fold the money into a tiny tight square and seal it into an envelope with pandas on the front, to think of you buying a book and folding back the cover and writing your initials on the title page or cooking food in a skillet with your shirt off smoking and it has been too long since i watched you disappearing backwards into the bart tunnel.