Ethan Hawke letter 25, 071424
Letter 071424 think hard on nothing on a farm machine
Dear Ethan Hawke
God is a response to distance destroying itself. Top surgery as a password should surprise no one. Our radios are not the same. My love for line breaks has no end. Ends here. I know the kid’s name but suicide isn’t as specific as a speeding ticket. That poor mom. The rifle of longing, the handgun of birth. This smalltown lightning, starstruck by a colorless proximity.
kingsoftrain 
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