LETTERS TO THE BORG

Resistance Is Futile

To The Borg: I am pleased you have decided in unison not to destroy the Earth today.

Dear Saul: I meant to send you a personal note about how much I loved your novel “Hertzog” but now you’re dead.

Well Sylvia, you did it you did again. What kid wants to grow up reading “Soon, soon the flesh/The grave cave ate will be/
At home on me” from his Mom. RIP Nicholas, March 23. So much for “You are the one/ Solid the spaces lean on, envious./ You are the baby in the barn.” Life is more than a gas.

Hey Jake: I was stunned you didn’t use my trenchant question at the presidential press conference last night but that’s cool.

Dear Ms. Magnuson: I completely understand why your blood boils when you hear Phil Spector’s defense team try to convince ANYONE that Lana Clarkson committed suicide with his gun at his mansion.

Greetings to the Margoli: you’re annual accounting of our firm has been pristine, professional, and precise.

Hi Peta: You never mentioned my beautiful little poem I sent. I must now reconsider ordering the La Femme Nikita box set.

Здравствуйте (zdraststvooy tyeh) Ukrainians! we still await your Ajax and Ruby on Rails programming on our new blog site.

Dear Jennifer: when you were playing Amarice in Xena the Warrior Princess in the Endgame episode, did you feel an intimate sense of responsibility to protect Gabrielle when you shouted “What are you waiting for? Run! I’ll hold her off!”

Hey Edward: I just wanted to tell you that Tyler Durden in “Fight Club” inspired me to hit myself even harder. I am so ready to serve the militant needs of Operation Chaos.

Oh Helen, I do wish I had gone to the Eckankar classes with you and friends back in 1976 when I lived in your basement so I could have enjoyed out-of-body galactic experiences.

Hallo Shiv: it’s really cool you still have your Facebook site up with thousands of friends even though you were run over by a car in Paris in 1993. How’s the phantom life, dude?

Dear Lu Ann: you once told me you wished we had slept together that awkward night in August 1973. I am sorry I split the milk on the shag carpet after the exquisite clam spaghetti dinner and candlelight.

Hello Suzanne: You’re so impressed you’re going to put my poems to music and make a huge hit like “Luka” aren’t you?

Attn: Sarah: We at Homeland Security have detected chatter that Putin is flying around your backyard like a freakin’ sparrow.

Hi Joan: My fiction class wants to know why-in-the-hell you changed your novel title from California Blue to The White Album.

Yo Charlie: you’re 74 you old fuck and you’re still in prison har har har. See you’ve still got that scar. Hope you rot, bro.

Farewell Judson–it was a great jingly jangly time at Downhill Farm back in the day. I still remember riding horses and swimming naked in the cold creek with the abandoned tipi poles nearby. Sorry the commune split up and you had to move to Ohio with the wind chimes and your triad of Marty and Sandy. I heard your writing was flowing before you died in 1991.

Calling Timothy: from the received wisdom of friends we hear you still inhabit the ether. That is, even though your ashes cooked upon reentry from orbit along with a quarter-ounce of Gene Roddenberry. Professor, I tried your product and I liked it very much and sometimes not.  I hope your ectoplasmic essence recalls me giving you the iridescent mirror disk at Chapel Hill as well as our phone interview when you talked 145 words a minute from California.

Hi Jerry, remember me? We spoke Christmas Day 1984. You were with your folks in New York. You hadn’t met Jennifer, Lisa, Matthew or Courtney yet. My father made me get off the phone. It was long-distance and it was snowing.

Dear Marcia: Every time I see a willow dancing in the wind, I think of you, resting there beside the duck pond. I imagine that you are the hand pushing the breeze, and that you are part of every vibrating atom.

Old Black Joe: always wanted to meet you and share a vanilla moon pie and RC cola and watch you jig and wiggle.

Dearest Mom: I remember the dream when you were across the river with your paints and easel with the rainbow behind you.

To The Borg: I am still pleased you have decided in unison not to destroy the Earth today.

~ Craig Shaffer

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