I used to leave
notes
around
the house
folded over.
Seam smoothed
sharp. Tucked in
away places. They
were meant to be found.
Read in certain order. They
weren't hard to find. They
turned up, but no note
contained any clue
about locations,
or sequence.
Or thereabouts.
The notes
once found,
unfolded,
could be flipped
over.
However, so
could most notes,
so.
In theory, it
could be a way
to communicate.
Sometimes, there would be
something
on the otherside,
the non-inside.
In other handwriting.
I wasn't the othersider.
Others could be, if they
chose. That choice, though
was foul.
So.
The notes.
You want to know.
Well, it's no secret, left lying
around. They would say things
like
"how eye roll"
"moment saved"
"Believe it up!"
"dope"
"I love you note you don't"
and
"think brighter"
or
"still"
or
"anything really."
but
each word
would alternate
in other handwriting.
All on sameside,
officially inside
(othersider writing
disregard). What happens
is,
Picture yourself (no drawing
pictures). You find a note,
open it,
add a word,
(fore or aft)
put it back
someplace else,
sometimes - you find a note
you didn't even start!
Shocked my ass! first time
I saw that. "Hey!" One word
only in there. And
in other hand.
So I add a word,
for or aft,
put it back.
(someplace else)
No one
ever spoke
of a note.
No one explained
how it worked. In theory
to communicate
it could be
a way
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