I'm parched.

The winter has not been kind to me.

So much so, that I would get married again tomorrow if it meant having someone to smear Jergens on my back.

I am so dry that yesterday, a piece of me dropped off and was crunched underfoot by a passer-by. Even after kneeling painfully down on my cracked and flaking knees to examine the crushed particles, I was not able to determine whence the lost piece originated.

As far as I can tell, though, I'm not missing anything I need.

photo, Irving Rusinow, April 1941.