Letter to the Editor (Sex Under The Moonlight)

To whom it may concern: 

I'm a man. One of them, for sure. I walk hard, I talk hard. Me and my friends lock our legs often. At this point you are asking yourself "how can I trust this guy?" 

You can trust me. 

Anyway, I know the thoughts in my head are good. I know the earth is made of wood because my guy/girl friends told me that a while ago. The longer I know, the better. "So what's a guy like me (a man) gonna do about it?" Beats me! Anyway, the earth has been wood this whole time. Back when the dinosaurs were here they knew it too. 

I would sit on a big rock if this was that but it's not. I sit on a big mound of wood. It's alive, fellas! Get a load of this! Have you taken in the air lately? It's different than it used to be but I'm not sure how. I like the sound my fist makes against the floor outside. I'm what they call a naturalist. I was born by a lake where my mother decided she'd grow old. I'll grow old there to (I think). I'd like it if everyone stayed in the same area they were meant to stay in. Lately there have been too many people moving too far or not far enough if you ask me! So if you are going to go far please do but don't if you're just going half the distance you thought you would originally. Wherever you end up: know that I'm there with you. I'm holding your hand right now. This ain't some woo woo shit. I am here I am here I am here I am here. 

Just like my boyfriends say: "the world is beyond your imagination when you think about it hard and you are alone." 

God speaks to me the way my boyfriends do. God is kind and beyond anything I know for certain. He told me to follow my heart and forget about the things that I don't know. I have no longing left. God took that burdane from me. It took a lot of prayer but I am finally at a place where I feel completely satisfied. You can be mystical too. I got started by buying post cards of people in their prime. People doing what they love all pinned to my wall. I have to plaster over all the holes in my walls every time I move apartments. I don't mind. My boy and girl friends all ask me "why don't you mind?" I tell them "I cherish the world and my space and the things around me and that I love to return things." 

As you may have guessed I love libraries and playing darts at the bar (they make me return the darts when I am done). I love these things because they too have lots of wood and natural materials. 

All jokes aside, the people, post plaster, stacked back in their container I use to move them are happy just as I am to be moving them. They reside nicely. I reside nicely. Every new apartment is an opportunity to bring me closer to God and myself and the pictures of people in their prime. I am just as holy as my new walls are. 

My second step in becoming what I thought (and now know) that I should be was to howl more. The moon is a source of energy for me and you. LOOK AT IT. Tell me that thang ain't damn close to heaven! The moon talks just like anything else talks. I deliver when the moon asks me to. Last week it wanted seeds. The week before that it requires a song from the mouth of a harp. I stopped asking questions a long time ago when it asked me to. Would you do the same? You are not ready to be where I am if you said no. Please send me an email when you're ready. 

You seem ready now. 

The most recent step I took towards self actualization was having natural sex. The moon asked us to take off my condom while my lover and I were in a field and inside each other (what I thought at the time was “inside each other”). The moon gave me such blessed insights during our hours together that night. I'd never truly felt touched since the day I was born. That night I was reborn. I haven't been able to stop touching it, not in a perverse way but a spiritual one. This is recently acquired knowledge but it is potent. Some may deem this knowledge holy. I know I do. The next time you're in a farmer's field with someone you love, take note of the moonlight glistening on both your skin and think “the condom doesn't glisten the same.” 

Thanks,

Sean Harper