Dear Boulder self,
You have a family of all the right eccentrics, with southern blooded y'all's, bleach-haired European pig roasters, maddy j's & Conrad's, familiar yet still awkward thrift shop owners you can't look in the eye cause you don't want them to know your secrets..., the E-brothers with their subtle kindness & family potluck dinners, baby Jude from inception to rollerblading smiles, two gay dogs, two beautiful lesbians on gay st., a classic frizzy haired won't take shit sub-mama, two hilarious Gallagher brothers, a gaggle of buttcrack photographs, youthful sari & our middle distance history, the sometimes friends who come around when they want but there's always at least tequila or at least Denver, or at least talk of tattoos, or at least bottomless diy bloody mary's. Oh ma gawd, Boulder-self, you lived. You ran hundreds of mountain miles. You had your old balls running group full of positive energy & life advice. You had your almond croissants and creamy coffee. You had hardly a late morning, because you were so full. You had movie theaters and takeout. You had freedom and hot showers. You had great love. You have great love.
Love,
Your bolder self.