When I think of you, I think of horses. You had a certain reputation for being like one.
Do you remember telling me your secret recipe for making homemade raspberry vodka in a jar?
Last time I saw you, you were tripping out on LSD and the waitress offered to call the cops for me.
I said, No, no, no, he’s okay, he’s my friend.
I didn’t really think you were okay then, but I hope you’re okay now.