Baby love! Sweet boy! I left wine and dish soap out in the little espresso mug you shoot Jameson out of when Jameson is at hand to try and catch fruit flies. I’m thinking about planting wheat in the part of your hair and dousing you in water and baking you fresh bread in the Dutch oven you got me for Christmas last year. I picked up some moss outside the coffeeshop and a thousand tiny bugs fled under my fingernails and took over the muscles they found there. They did all the work I had to do. I felt the sun and the breeze and wished you were there. Kisses tonight. The bugs wanna meet you.