I think the coolest thing about a post card is that moment you think of someone, throw some words on there and send it. Except the other day my dog got a postcard from the vet, wherein she has to go to her first "Senior dog" checkup. She's old enough now to get a discount at a buffet apparently. In the post:
Magazine, Magazine Magazine
Who is sending it to me? Bill Bill Bill
I can't pay one more and still eat Junk Junk Junk
I am the human garbage transport But hidden between church advertisments and get rich quick schemes and political messages,
peaking out from the rip offs and the overwhelming amount of rain drenched paper, peering
from the myriad of junkets. A picture of a sun drenched beach:
"Thinking of you in Hawaii"