I woke at 3:37 a.m. with an envelope slipped between my lips. I was in my bed in my apartment alone as I often was. I pulled the envelope from my mouth and got up to look around. No lights were on. The doors were both still locked. All was quiet on Highland Ave. I sat at my desk in the living room, switched on the lamp, and opened the envelope. “Dear Cicada,” it read, “Your receipt.”
Saturday, October 06, 2012
The Most Mysterious Arrival of a Most Unusual Letter
after Mark Strand
I woke at 3:37 a.m. with an envelope slipped between my lips. I was in my bed in my apartment alone as I often was. I pulled the envelope from my mouth and got up to look around. No lights were on. The doors were both still locked. All was quiet on Highland Ave. I sat at my desk in the living room, switched on the lamp, and opened the envelope. “Dear Cicada,” it read, “Your receipt.”
I woke at 3:37 a.m. with an envelope slipped between my lips. I was in my bed in my apartment alone as I often was. I pulled the envelope from my mouth and got up to look around. No lights were on. The doors were both still locked. All was quiet on Highland Ave. I sat at my desk in the living room, switched on the lamp, and opened the envelope. “Dear Cicada,” it read, “Your receipt.”
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