The Letter*To whom it may concern, / I am alone. Although it may never quite seem that way, both night and day I am confined to solitude. These past six years hitherto have been filled with nothing more than the fictional characters in my texts and the short pleasantries granted in passing by dismal men, women, and even children that occupy my days. Each morning, as the dawn breaks, I wake up disgusted with myself in that same manner which sundry men and women have. It is not the loneliness, however, that disgusts me. No, I do believe I have grown quite fond of the residual silence. Instead, I believe it to be the dull monotony of my routine that has left me truly disturbed. The days have begun to fade in with each other, along with the nights---especially the nights. I cannot say, for instance, whether or not it was last evening or that of a day three months afore that I was seated at my desk, much like I am now, finishing the latest draft of a poem in my journal. Nor could I tell you the present date, although the heat of the day, still trapped in the rafters, is so persistent that I am obliged to say it must be one of those blue summer nights when children run, squealing, through the streets, like plump pigs to the trough. I have become somewhat of a hermit, secluded in my small, run-down apartment above my bodega. My mind has grown as wild as the violet petunias, bridging the gap over the narrow, brick walk which separates my garden--- as the myriad of dandelions that have invaded the surrounding lawn. / Throughout the day I work the till in my shop, observing the assorted physiognomies that populate the three small isles. As they walk up and down, deciding what they most desire, I, too, contemplate to myself, deciding the few whom I might admire should I get the chance. I often attempt to strike up conversations with my customers, much to their dismay. I comment on the weather, the soccer scores from a recent game, or perhaps a story from the local section of the Post & Courier, only to receive terse responses and short payments. However, I never let these failed attempts at congenial conversation discourage me. Day after day, I persist.