Dear Evolution,

My friend, we need to talk. I don't know if you're going through something in your personal life or if you're hitting the bottle too hard, but your work is suffering. What happened Evolution? For so long you were the epitome of ambition. From caveman to Albert Einstein your work was a thing of beauty. But even then things were starting to slip. It showed in little ways, like wisdom teeth and foreskin. People have been forced to yank out and cut off these unnecessary parts for generations. And speaking of inefficiency, most ladies are wearing clothes now and no longer living in caves, so body hair isn't required. Do you know how much waxing costs, not to mention hurts? Help a girl out Evolution!
But where you've really dropped the ball, where you've really let everybody down, is the progression of the human mind. It was all going so well. And then...the Kardashians. The Real Housewives. The Tea Party. That Wild Rose debacle. Jesus, Evolution. We're supposed to be getting smarter, not dumber! Glenn Beck? Sarah Palin? While you've been holed up with god knows who, doing god knows what, human civilization has become a disaster of moronic proportions. So let's get you the help you need so you can get back to work. We need you, Evolution. Now more than ever. You don't want Rush Limbaugh to be your legacy, do you? Because we both know you can do so much better than that.
Sincerely,
PC

Dear Edna St Vincent Millay,

You are one of the few poets I love to read. I am not particularly fond of most poetry. In school it always seemed like a contest: "Who can grasp the meaning of all these muddled words first? You will win a prize...acknowledged intellect!" Stanza after stanza of convoluted meaning. I always wanted to yell at the page "Just say what you bloody mean already!" But your poetry is direct, blunt and piercing. Achingly beautiful in its simplicity. Your words have meant different things to me throughout the years. For example, this has had different layers of meaning for me, depending on the man of the moment weighing heavily on my heart:

I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favourite vow.

But this has always been the same - always the same cry to live life fully:

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light!

The life you lived was an inspiration and a cautionary tale. You were, on the one hand, a trailblazer, on the other, yet another divinely talented artist who did a bunch of interesting things before she died too young. But your words live on, making generation after generation think and feel. It is like achieving immortality, to command a person's emotions from beyond the grave. For a writer, I can imagine no greater thing. Thank you for making me feel.

Sincerely,
PC