Frank Doel,
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What are you DOING over there, you are not doing ANYTHING, you are just sitting AROUND.
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Where is Leigh Hunt? Where is the Oxford Verse? Where is the Vulgate and dear goofy John Henry, I thought they'd be such nice uplifting reading for Lent and NOTHING do you send me.
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You leave me sitting here writing long margin notes in library books that don't belong to me, some day they'll find out I did it and take my library card away.
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I have made arrangements with the Easter bunny to bring you an Egg, he will get over there and find you have died of inertia.
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I require a book of love poems with spring coming on. No Keats or Shelley, send me poets who can make love without slobbering. Wyatt or Jonson or somebody, use your own judgment. Just a nice book preferably small enough to stick in a slacks pocket and take to Central Park.
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Well, don't just sit there! Go find it! I swear I dont know how that shop keeps going.
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