In a message you wrote: you said
you use high falutin language
I don't understand (you)
those days there were no mobiles
only post cards and inland letters
to write on and although the post
office was near home, it always seemed
that one day like a pack of cards it would
crumble, and the old man who peered over
his eyes to take a letter, had both a distaste
for letters, me and I suspect his work too.
So I would pass them on in the cinema where
you came, or send through a friend. But I was actually
practising the art of letter writing and composition
using you as a guinea pig, which maybe you understood
with your prescience.
Now, forty years later my handwriting crawls like insects
on a page, but my craft of (letter writing) has become
worse. No one goes to the post office, and typing on
the mobile with such small letters is an acuity of pain.
So the post card or the inland letter or the writing pad
dwindles in far flung areas of cobwebs.
