My boys hate fireworks… I know B did. And from Virgil’s behavior from gunfire, thunderbolt, and lightning, very, very frightening. Can’t say I care for fireworks. Except in bed. But what about a girlfriend or a honeymoon. Fire Works, Braxton, Virgil
Tuesday, July 4, 2023
Tale 003 ~Fire Works, Braxton, Virgil~
Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I’m independent. I’m free. Now I can speak like a member of the GOP…
I’m not in a celebratory mood now despite everything, my love. “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man… a black man.” If I have to explain that to you, we’ve got problems. Other than another day of me mourning my son? 884 days and counting. Not that I consider that a problem. I should be more concerned that I had to look up the term “Compound Nouns.” Um. You don’t have to be a genius to make money in the USA. Ha! I wish I had sooner, as if that would have kept my little boy away from the fire. I’ll stop. Please, a lie if I ever heard one. Am I speaking in a political sense or that of Virgil here?
“Honey and the Moon” Honeymoon? Do we even have a song? Again, today we should be listening to something much more pro-American. I swear, love, much like my B III… Now that is an insult. I’m sad for my son and mad about our country. And it only gets worse. But let me cry about my boy and when it comes to the country. Well, I’ll leave that The Newsroom, nuts, and better Howard Beale from the movie Network. YouTube? Every morning after the alarm, there is a song in my head from Braxton. Playlist? Yeah, I made one yesterday but not for him. Although today it was “Lately” Trinton. Reading the lyrics to that, though… fuck how that describes you and me right now.
Girlfriend? And no, I’m not trying to sound like… I was going to say something… I don’t know; sexist, homophobic, or downright rude. I only know; I was thinking about the girls I used to know or a drag queen. That is another reason to miss Braxton. I could tell him anything. Ninety-nine percent, anyway. Going back to the days, though, when you were my girlfriend? Hell! I’m thirty-eight, love. Thirty-eight, and I’ll admit. Fireworks still creep me out. Sort of. Braxton and Virgil, same. Do our two-legged kids like fireworks? It only shows how much I’ve been paying attention. I prefer the ones you and I made on our honeymoon and our last time… Fucking, making love? Language, I know. But what to say, love? Fire Works, Braxton, Virgil
884 Days Without B III, Day 325 of Virgil’s Arrival
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will