Dear Mataki for the first time.

I've decided to call you a name. Perhaps Charlie, maybe something with a little more zest, Gabriel or Laden or Alfredo. I'm always a little in love with you. Do something for me? Think of a big big window in the center of a tightly cropped space and the moon is so big that it takes up 3/4 of the sky. If you reach up, you swear its made out of Styrofoam. And you had a choice to make: one, upset the moon wasn't real the way you thought it would be or two, content with saying you touched the moon, you reached the paper stars.  I want to tell you about many things. Papa always said the phrase, I know a little about a lot and a lot about a little. But, more importantly, I would like to get to know you. I want to hear about that time in 6th grade your babysitter caught you jacking off into a napkin holder. That look  says no embarrassing stories. I get it. We just met (however, I feel like we've met before).  Invasive, especially for first stories.  Once a stuffed animal from a prize machine got stuck midway down the shoot. It hung low enough to reach.  I my arm got stuck. After a lot of pulling, a little blood, and my dignity on the line, I finally broke free to see the manager standing above me. I was told I could never come back. Never ever ever ever to Godfather's Pizza in Grandview. Do you like Mataki as a name?

-b