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September 2013

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Letter to an imaginative thyroid gland

Dear Ms. Gland,

I hope this letter finds you in the
pink
of health

Or at least a few shades
closer to happiness
than you were
after our Monday meeting
that went a little sour

Or during the final Friday
lunch that didn’t fair too well
because you coldly
presided over pepperoni pizza,
many false summations
and our overworked
lacrimal glands.

I am writing to you
to be honest,
feeling a little resigned
at the way things
have shaped
at your end in the
middle of a journey
that began promisingly

and had survived four
similarly orchestrated
farewell lunches
where you threw your
weight around
and we rallied so
diligently around
your high horse.

And yet, I am writing
to let you know
that the cold feet
you developed
when I asked for a
rational explanation
was in fact a confirmed
side effect
of your yet-to-be-diagnosed
condition.

The doctor says,
and I suspect she doesn’t
mean this in a
purely medical sense,
‘heal your gut’.

You and I both know
its feelings have been
off by a mile lately.

Yours (still) sincerely.

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