Day late, dollar short

“Dear Lance, It’s 3 a.m. and I’m sitting in a deck chair, in a tux, with my bare feet up on the rail, watching the Pacific roll away in the wake of this great ship. It's 3 a. m. I should be dancing in the ballroom or balancing a Martini against the roll of the ship. It’s 3 a. m. I’m sitting in a deck chair. I think my shoes are long gone overboard. I’m stoned on the QE2 and thinking of you. ________.”

It’s so much easier to be nice, to be romantic and thoughtful, to love someone from four years past and 2000 miles away. It’ s what I always wanted him to say. But it is just too late. And not even close to enough.

But it was a nice postcard.

1999