Dear Charlie,

Damn you for reminding me that I should be talking about poetry.
Damn you for reminding me of all the work ahead of me by looking back to the past.
Damn you for having the same kinds of parents almost all poets do and reminding me that the people who raised me still don't get it.
Damn you for having such beautiful ways to talk about your work, for being fervent about it, for having the in-touchness to words that I feel like I lose more and more every day.

Thank you for reminding me that I should be talking about poetry.
Thank you for telling me (without addressing me) that there is a lot of work to do with words.
Thank you for allowing me back into a shell of comfort where I can demand my days back and say, "I need to go write now."

I need to go write now.