Pen Pal   Pen pal, you try to scare me off, or so you say — you tell me of your wayward kids and lurking sickness, shocking things you did in school, beauty’s broken promise, and woe betide the luckless sailor if he drives his ship onto the rocks along your shore. I’ll take my turn — not penniless, not poor, just unencumbered, I’m a man who thrives on trouble, who trusts his luck, sometimes speaks in tongues and sometimes barely speaks at all, and I’m onto you, pen pal, yes, I see the way your disbelieving beauty peeks slyly from behind those rocks, those walls, those words so charmingly addressed to me.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont May 2010