your post-Moonrise Kingdom fan mail can only be delicious.
Dirty birds must be stripped raw by your naked knees
flirting with the hems of your boy scout shorts.
Do they write to you about your shorts?
Do they tell you they imagine the fabric rustling
'round your balls hustling?
Or is that just me?
I imagine they wax rhapsodic
about variations on neckerchief knots
and the creative misuse of kneesocks.
Miissuuuuuse ooff knneeessooockssss.
Your collection of hand drawn pornographic geography, alone,
must make all the cartographers blush.
Oh, Ed Norton.