bombas

bombas

back in october – the twenty-fifth, as my computer firmly recalls – you changed my order, as requested, from ankle socks to STRIPED QUARTERS, from order # 251305 to #251821, as you so precisely put it.   i am looking at the email right now (well, i’m not actually looking at it now.  i would have to close out of my blog and open my email to do that.  but) i have it in my string; i have you dead to rights. 

so where are my quarter socks? instead i have four pairs – pair? – of the ANKLE SOCKS i ordered in the first place and then changed my mind.

look:  you’re not dealing with a crazyman here.  i’m well aware this is a tiny error which will ultimately be corrected over time.    its very minisculity makes it all the more irritating, however, for the tease of its lack of resolution.  so simple, and yet i’ve been waiting.  i get so little pleasures in my life these days and the power of clicking up warm feet, well, it reminds me of some lines from our neighbor back in ottawa, a poet who lived next door

my pleasures, how discreet they are
a little booze, a little car 

i thought you were better than that.  you and i, we both have the string.

but who can i believe in?  who?  whom?  in whom can i believe?

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