Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, Nor gIoom of night
Stays these couriers from the swift CompIetion of their appointed rounds.
So says the United States Postal Service in their sunshine motto
adapted from the ancient Greek historian Herodotus.
Back then, ''swift'' could have meant a year and a day.
Now? lt's 1 0 a.m. the next morning anywhere,
from here to Cochabamba.
People all over the globe, every afternoon,
stand at their mailboxes, wondering what might be inside.
You never know what to expect.
And in Oz, most times,
the best part is the expectation.
Prisoner Number 99C 1 2 4, WiIIiam Cudney.
Convicted February 1 0th, '99. Murder in the first degree.
Sentence: Life without the possibility of parole.
She got an abortion behind your back without telling you.
l forget what abortion is.
lt's when the baby goes to heaven without ever getting born.
So let me get this straight.
You aimed for the doctor, but you got the son instead.
- No, l aimed for the son. - You took out the kid on purpose?
Yeah. Now that doctor knows how l feel.
He killed my baby, l killed his.
What are you gonna say to him when you see him?
Who?
The doctor's son, up in heaven.
l already know what l'm gonna say to Dr. Nathan's husband,
if they let me in.
Hey. Where the fuck have you been?
Come on. We don't got a lot of time left. Put these on.
- No. - Cyril, don't start with me.
- l don't wanna box. l don't have to box. - Yeah, you do.
No, Mr. Cudney said l don't have to.
- Cudney? - Yeah.
God doesn't want me to box.
Okay, no boxing today.
- You're not mad? - No.
As a matter of fact,
l think you should listen to what Mr. Cudney says.
lt's okay.
O'Reily. You come to join our prayer meeting?
Yeah.
''Woe is me. This is a sickness and l must bear it.''
First, you go tell my brother it's okay to box.
Then you promise me you'll never talk to him again.
You got that?
l never had much use for the Bible before.
Mind if l keep this?
- No. - Yeah, l didn't think so.
Hey, Gloria.
- Watch yourself, O'Reily. - Cocksucker.
- Yo, Bricks. - O'Reily.
You're the only one that get that shit right.
You checking out the competition?
Man, they better pray.
My man Bricks' about to wipe the canvas with them Muslim bitches.
l don't know, man. l saw Khan working out in the gym. He's peak.
- So is my nigga here. - Let's go get high.
You think you ought to get high the day of your first fight?
Shit, yeah. l'm like Tyson, man.
l party, then l fight, then l party some more.
- See you guys. - All right, baby.
Hey, Pancamo. Put me down for five Grovers on Khan.
- lt's a big bet. - l got money to burn, man.
Hey, Hamid.
Yes?
l just thought you should know
that Wangler's been talking trash about you and Said.
lt's time you taught that heathen homeboy a lesson.
Don't worry, l intend to win. ln the name of Allah.
Yeah, whatever. Just kick his ass.
Yeah, right.
Kenny ''Bricks'' Wangler.
And in this corner, Hamid Khan.
Listen to me at all times. Touch gloves and go to your corners.
Touch gloves and go to your corners.
Ready. Ring the bell.
Stick a punch, Khan.
Stick him on his jaw.
Hey, Bricks, nice one, man.
You're like Tyson, all right. Cicely Tyson.
A package arrives unexpected. You open it.
Sometimes, it's a gift,
bottle of vintage wine, let's say, from a relative.
Sometimes, it's from the Unabomber.
An innocent-looking box that goes boom.
Yo, those Muslims fuck with us, now it's our turn to fuck with them.
l got a poem. l got a poem, man.
Ever since l got back in Oz, all right, l ain't been writing no poetry.
But l got inspired by something l saw the other day.
So this poem right here is dedicated to Minister Kareem Said.
That's it
I figured you easy
AII you wanna do Is get your paIm greasy
CapitaIize
See, fucking America Been in your eyes
For more than 450 years
And now you wanna hide your tear
In your so-caIIed AIIah-given mission To heIp your brothers
WeII, AIIah gave me a vision And I'm gonna teII aII the others
TaIking about revoIution
What I saw, that was reveIation
You froIicking With the deviI's maiden
Now you happy
'Cause now You can manipuIate her think
WeII, I'm gonna Put you onto something
WhiIe we Iocked up here In this cIink
WhiIe you trying to get us aII To the heaven above
When she forget about Your contradictoriaI ass
Make sure you hide Them bIoody gIoves
This has gone from a private humiliation
to a public one.
- You disgrace us all. - You have a choice, Said.
Her or us.
You either promise to never see that woman again,
or you are finished.
Finished?
We'll choose someone else to lead.
Patricia.
Tell me what's wrong.
l've been getting these phone calls,
threatening phone calls, demanding that l stay away from you.
Stay away from me?
l saved the tape from the machine.
l thought maybe
you might want it, or the lawyer or somebody.
Did you change your telephone number?
Yeah.
But l can't just move.
What if they find out where l live?
l just don't understand.
Why are they telling me to stay away from you?
Don't you worry about that.
l'll speak with Zelman. He'll know best how to handle this.
- How to protect you. - l don't wanna stay away from you.
Fuck them. Oh, God, sorry.
No, you're right.
Fuck them.
Tell me neither of you know anything about threatening calls to Tricia Ross.
Tell me.
Because whoever it was
will pay.
ln this life or the next.
When l got married,
l got my wife's name tattooed on my arm.
lt's pretty stupid, huh?
Like a marriage is ever gonna last as long as a fucking tattoo.
l told Shannon that l wanted a divorce
because of what l feel for Gloria.
l still love Gloria.
And l try to fight it, but l can't.
She's under my skin, man.
She's under my fucking skin.
Come on, man, l bit the shit out of that motherfucker.
You had some fun getting your ass whipped.
You ask us to help you take out Wangler, Pierce, Poet,
then you say wait.
l don't want to kill them,
or there will be a war between us and the other Homeboys.
- Just want to slow them down. - He's right.
We gotta make the deed look like an accident.
Poet and Pierce first.
l have my own plans for Wangler.
- Kenny. - You know what l'm saying?
- Kenny. - Bricks. Damn. Bricks, man.
- l need to talk to you. - What?
lt's bad news.
- Your wife's dead. - What?
She was shot, execution style.
- Oh, shit. - That's too bad, yo.
Real sorrowful, Ken. Real sorrowful.
- There's more. - What?
She was found in the apartment with another man.
A Ronnie Smith.
Oh, damn. Ronnie. That was my boy.
They were found in bed together.
Look, l've scheduled some time for you to see Sister Peter Marie.
My baby. How's my son?
He's fine. He was at your mother's at the time.
Amen.
- Anything l can do? - No. No.
Look, do the cops know who did this shit?
They think it was drug-related.
Can l go to the funeral?
See what l can do.
Oh, man, l thought l was gonna die keeping myself from laughing.
Hold up. Wait, wait. What about when l gave him this face?
No, don't.
Yo, Kenny, you wanted that bitch dead and Ronnie dead,
now they dead.
Who loves you, baby?
- Y'all do, yo. Fuck that. - Handle it, right?
- Let's go get high. - Let's do this.
Of course, any kind of letter from the outside is a potential bomb,
blowing up in your face with memories of what life was like
before the gates slammed shut.
Before someone, definitely not your momma,
screamed, ''Lights out.''
Sometimes the sweeter the Ietter, the more bitter the aftertaste.
''My dear son,
I woke up today dreaming of what Iife wouId be Iike when you're free,
teIIing myseIf that every day is one day cIoser to you coming home.
One day cIoser to us being together again.
Everything here is the same.
The neighbourhood's the same.
Even the faces, everyone Iooks the same.
Is everything there okay?
Is there anything we can do?
We miss you.
We Iove you. ''
Get an lV started...
l can't stand the pain.
- l didn't see a thing. - What about you?
Lockdown. Lockdown. Lockdown.
Listen, lockdown.
Lockdown.
Junior, what up?
Junior, why we in lockdown?
Welcome back, Kenny.
Pity what happened to Poet and Pierce.
- They gonna live? - For now.
- But you know life is fragile, man. - What about me?
How you doing with that programme, man?
You meet with Rivera yet, face to face?
No. Just, you know, mostly talking to Sister Peter Marie.
- About? - This and that.
Well, Michael, as long as ''this'' doesn't connect to ''that,''
you're safe with me.
l wanna warn you, Miguel, there's no way to predict
the outcome emotionally of facing Officer Rivera or his wife.
Yeah.
When you blinded him, you hurt them both.
And they may have no sympathy
for any pain or guilt you're feeling.
So why don't you tell me what you did to Eugene Rivera?
You know what l did.
l don't know why we gotta waste time rehashing it.
We have all the time we need.
And it's very important to articulate what you've done.
So when was it?
Last summer.
Why did you do it?
l don't know.
You know, l was all fucked up and shit.
Some stuff going on, and l got tense.
l don't know, you know. lt just happened.
What just happened?
- What did you, Miguel Alvarez, do? - Shit!
l cut his eyes really bad.
How bad?
l stabbed them. You know, l stabbed them.
His eyes, you know.
The scaIpeI,
l dropped it.
And when it hit the floor,
it made this ringing sound.
Okay.
Would you like to sit down?
Now,
why did you do it?
l already told you already.
- lt's because of tension and shit. - No, Miguel.
Why you did this. Something so deliberate.
You're gonna have to tell Eugene why, and he's going to ask.
l will.
Then why can't you tell me?
Because l don't owe it to you.
This is who l wanna sit down with.
Face to face and ask why.
- He's here now, Eugene. - Really?
So, what's his answer?
l don't hear his voice.
All l hear is voices that sound like my own
but they don't say why Alvarez did this.
They don't tell me why l deserve it.
What happened was not your fault.
And God is not going to answer your questions
in a big booming voice.
He's going to answer you through talking to Alvarez.
So why don't you tell me what you wanna say to him?
l keep thinking someone is gonna open a door
and let me out of this dark room.
What else?
- What else do you wanna say? - l can't. Not in front of you.
Come on, l'm a big girl. Go ahead, whatever it is. Say it.
l hate you, Alvarez,
you fucking motherfucker.
Because of you, l gotta carry around all this shit in the dark.
lf it wasn't for Tina, l would have killed myself already.
Sometimes l think l should kill myself for her sake,
so she could start a new life without me.
Some days, Alvarez,
l wish you would have killed me instead of doing this.
l can't cry anymore. Did you know that?
You made it so l can't cry.
Junk mail. Selling you this, promising you that.
Publishers Clearing House.
You got your American Family sweepstakes.
You got Ed McMahon warning you to open that envelope
because you could be a millionaire.
And you know you can never win,
so you toss it.
But what if you made the wrong choice?
What if this was the one-in-a-trillion time you win?
Man, this sexual-harassment thing is eating away at me.
State settles out of court,
reinstates Howell to her job,
which implies my guilt.
But l'm not fucking guilty.
You're a victim of the times, my friend.
Years ago, a woman complained of workplace harassment,
no one believed her. No one even cared.
Today, it's assumed that every guy in every office is an ass-grabbing pig.
- Which, of course, we are. - No, l'm not!
Tim, come on.
Told me you fucked every woman that worked in this place
except for Sister Peter Marie.
So l've slept around.
lt's always been mutual.
l would never force my way on a woman,
use my position to get laid.
- Prove it. - How?
Don't let the state settle. Take her to court.
Get Nathan and Wittlesey and Sister Peter Marie
to testify on your behalf.
- You know, fight Howell. - The odds are against me.
When are they ever in your favour?
For the media, this is like a seven-course meal.
Meaning, if l wanna take this any further,
l better be prepared to see my face on TV and in the headlines.
Yes. And if the public only half listens, only retains half of what they read,
the story will burn hot for a few days,
you'll look guilty at first, regardless of the facts,
then the story will cool.
By the time we win, no one will know.
But you'll have to carry the stigma of those first few days with you
for the rest of your life.
Gloria,
what have you heard about this harassment case against Tim?
Claire Howell in solitary says that Tim had her fired
because she stopped having sex with him.
Yeah. l don't believe it, do you?
No.
- But? - l dated Tim.
You know, when l was separated.
When it comes to sex and relationships, he's...
l don't know. l don't know. Today, anything's possible.
Pete, Gloria, l'm glad you're both here.
l'm putting together my case
and l'd like you both to be character witnesses.
- Sure. - Thanks.
- Gloria? - Yeah, l'll let you know.
What? You don't believe Claire Howell, do you?
No, l just wanna talk to her, hear her side.
Her side?
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
That you think what she's saying might be true?
Which means l'm lying.
Which means you think l'm capable of abusing women.
- No, l didn't mean-- - Thanks a lot, Gloria.
Thanks for the vote of fucking confidence.
Tim, wait a--
Hey.
How's Dee Dee?
She misses her grandma. So do l.
We got all manner of men in here.
Men who've raped women, beaten them, murdered them.
Ryan O'Reily had Gloria's husband killed
because Ryan loved her so much.
l remember thinking at the time:
''Such passion.
Could l ever feel such passion?''
Tim.
You know, l was gonna fight this harassment charge.
l was gonna ask you and Gloria to testify on my behalf,
build a case because Howell is lying.
l didn't force her to do anything.
- Then why not fight it? - Because l am guilty.
Of using her, her body.
Of not giving a shit about her.
About her feelings for me, about her feelings for herself.
Now l know l did the same thing to my ex-wife.
And to Gloria.
To you.
Diane, if l asked you to testify on my behalf,
would you have done it?
Sure.
Because what we had was real,
if only for a moment.
Prisoner Number 99K87 1, Yuri Kosygin.
Convicted March 23rd, '99.
Eight counts murder in the first degree,
four counts attempted murder,
illegal possession of a firearm.
Sentence: Life imprisonment without the possibility of parole.
Nikolai Stanislofsky, Yuri Kosygin.
Are you here to kill me?
Okay,
according to your work assignment,
you're to be here in the library from noon till 3,
helping out the librarian, you know.
Rearranging books on the shelf.
You're also to take the book cart to the hospital ward
and to the AlDS ward, Unit E.
Hey. Kosygin.
You understanding any of this?
Yes.
Breathe or something every once in a while.
Sit over there till Mrs. Hubble comes back.
You're Kosygin, right? l heard of you.
The most brutal hitter in Little Odessa.
Antonio Nappa.
l'm extending my hand to you in friendship.
l don't need your friendship.
Fine.
Let me tell you something.
My boys control everything that goes in and out of this joint:
drugs, cigarettes, gambling.
You decide to start your bullshit here, you won't live till morning.
You ltalians.
So melodramatic.
- Hey. - Yes?
Got word from Mr. Nappa.
Your pal, what's-his-name,
needs to learn a little respect.
Kosygin is no pal of mine.
l'm a Jew. He's Cossack.
ln my community, he's feared for his savagery.
You Sicilians think you're so tough.
He would cut out your heart, eat it, and not think twice.
Yeah, well, you better talk to him.
Before l do.
- So, what do you think? - About what?
The new guy, Kosygin.
l tried to chat with him during dinner.
He sat there frozen like the tundra.
He scares the living shit out of me.
Me too.
Lights out.
- What you got there, Busmalis? - l wrote Miss Sally a fan letter.
Oh, my God! Look.
- Fucking thing's autographed. - They're fake.
- What? - They're fake, the autographs.
- They're done by a machine. - How do you know that?
All right, Miss Sally's may be real, but not the puppets'.
Especially not Nooter.
- Why not? - He's got no hands.
l mean, how's he gonna write?
With his mouth.
lf he can swing a mallet with his mouth,
he can certainly write with it.
There's a letter.
''Dear Agamemnon, thank you for writing.
Nooter, Pecky, and l are happy, happy, happy
that you like our show.
Keep watching, Miss Sally.''
Form letter.
Keller, you're a cynical bastard.
Hey, do you think Miss Sally sits and reads
every piece of mail she gets?
With a rack like that, she'll be getting a million letters a day.
They got some secretary sending that shit out.
No, really? No.
Hey, look, live in your fantasy world. What the hell do l care?
- Chris. - l got an idea.
We should write Miss Sally and ask her to come visit.
- Visit? - Sorry, bro.
Miss Sally ain't coming to Oz.
She might. Who knows? l'll write her. Now.
Man, l'd still like to fuck her.
l wouldn't mind a four-way with Nooter and Pecky.
What?
Visiting hours.
- Now l go see my family. - Man, your people don't quit, huh?
That's okay, bro. Long as they keep bringing them goodies.
No shit.
One of these days l'm gonna have to tag along
just to thank your mom myself, okay?
Where's Papi?
What happened?
- What happened? - Papi had a stroke.
A stroke?
- When? - Two nights ago at home.
Mommy was off from work, thank God.
He's in intensive care.
Shit. He's gonna make it?
They're doing what they can. That's what the doctor said.
l called him the other day to say sorry.
For what?
Cursing lsabella.
But before l could,
we started talking about something else.
Something stupid. What was it? Goddamn it, what was it?
- Don't worry about it. - No, l can't remember!
l called to say sorry,
but before l could, he asked me something first and l...
- Fuck! - Keep it down, Ricardo.
Carlo.
Did he say anything to you guys? After the last visit?
About what?
Stuff l said. Was he mad?
Carlo, it's okay. l don't think he was.
He loves you.
You wanna sleep, go back to your cell.
Yesterday, a letter arrived in Oz postmarked May 7th, 1 965.
Thirty-four years.
Must have got stuck in the sorting machine or something.
Anyway, the inmate it's addressed to, he's long dead.
So they take the envelope,
throw it in the dead-letter box, without even opening it.
Now nobody's ever gonna know what was inside.
Clayton, what are you still doing here?
Where did it happen, Leo?
l wanna know the exact spot where my father died.
- Clayton... - Show me.
Here. Right here.
You know, l've been wondering.
You think whoever killed Dad is still alive?
- Still in Oz? - Clayton--
l gotta wonder, is the guy l'm standing over in the library
the same animal who stabbed my dad?
Rebadow.
Seventeen years ago, a CO was shanked during lunch.
Do you remember?
So many years, so many killings.
They all blend into one.
The CO's name was Samuel Hughes.
Your father?
Yes. Do you remember him?
l'm sorry.
- You have to remember something. - l don't, l swear.
That's just not good enough. l want you to think.
Do you hear me, Rebadow? Think.
Please, l...
You think about my father, you goddamn son of a bitch.
Officer.
l don't know what to do. l mean, should l tell Leo what l saw?
Hughes has made a couple of big mistakes since he started.
When he was working with me in Emerald City,
he kept mixing it up with the Latinos.
Then he pulled that knucklehead move with the stun gun.
Still, though, there are extenuating circumstances.
His father was killed here.
That's got to be weighing on him, and the warden.
l think your first instincts were right.
l think you should sit down with Clayton, sort it out.
Look, Father Mukada,
l'm sorry for what you saw.
l overreacted.
Don't have to apologise to me.
Rebadow, sure.
All l want for you to know is that l know how you feel.
So the next time you wanna fly off into a rage,
you come talk to me.
And maybe together we can...
l don't know, maybe we can work through it.
The only thing that's gonna get me through it
is knowing who.
Who killed my dad.
Unless you can help me with that, we got nothing to talk about, Father.
Dear John
Then, of course, there's the Dear John letter--
Or Jane, as the case may be.
--when your loved one, or ex-loved one by that point,
tells you how much you fucked up her life and hurt her,
how much she gave to you and tried to help you,
and all you did in return was leave her swinging in the wind.
Oh, and yeah, she's found someone else.
Someone other than you who really understands what love is.
Dear John
Let's talk about your pact with Schillinger.
You met him at Lardner, right?
How would you describe your relationship with him there?
What's that thing you become when you first go into the nunnery?
- A postulant? - Yeah. l was a postulant.
He was mother superior.
You know, l gotta tell you, Sister,
until l met you,
l'd always thought nuns were a bunch of old maids
that had always just given up on life.
How'd you know?
Know what?
That God had called you,
you were supposed to be a nun?
l felt his love.
What's the love of God feel like?
You'll know when it comes.
l doubt that.
Don't you gotta take those vows, right?
Obedience, poverty, chastity.
At the end of the day, you go home and your bed is empty.
lt's not empty.
l forgot.
God's waiting there for you. You're the bride of Christ.
Yes.
Still, there gotta be nights when God's love feels cold.
When you're lonely, when you wonder if you made the wrong decision.
Have--?
- Visiting hours. l got my ex coming. - She's very beautiful.
Yeah, no. That's Kitty.
That was Kitty. She's my first wife. l got Angelique today.
- How many ex-wives do you have? - l got three.
Four if you count Bonnie. l married her twice.
l was married, you know.
See? You never stop amazing me.
l'd like to hear more about that next time.
Yeah, next time we're gonna talk about you, okay?
l look forward to it.
l like being in the same room with you, Sister.
You give good aura.
Oh, my.
Hey.
Hey, ese.
Withdrawal, huh?
Okay. Okay, l've been there.
Here's what we do.
Come on, just talk.
About?
Anything.
l don't know, man.
You know, when l went through withdrawal,
l tried to figure out why l was taking drugs,
why l was being so self-destructive.
Yeah, and?
Where did you get that?
Your father.
My first night here, he burnt it on.
Then he humiliated me.
Hurt me.
He hurt me real bad.
l got to tell you the truth, Andrew.
l hate your father.
You and me ain't that different.
We don't have to, you know.
We don't have to take drugs.
We don't have to kill ourselves to pay that cocksucker back.
He doesn't deserve to have that kind of control over our lives.
l was all alone when l went through withdrawal.
l was like a little kid.
l just wanted my mother.
Just wanted my mom to hug me.
l miss my mom too.
l know.
Come here. You're gonna be all right now.
lt's all gonna be all right.
Come in.
- l'm sorry we're late. - lt's okay.
l'd like to apologise to you all
for the way l acted last time l was here.
You see, l'm an addict.
And l'm hoping that with all of your help,
maybe l can take some control of my life.
Because l don't think l've ever had control before.
Welcome, Andrew.
lt's all right, man.
Hello, Dad.
Andrew.
You did it. You're clean.
Yeah.
Wow, how'd you do it?
Little help from God and my friends.
- Yo, Vern. - How you doing?
Came to get some exercise. Work up a sweat.
They're gonna teach me how to wrestle.
That's fine. We'll just stand here and watch.
Get on all fours.
- All right. - Head up.
And then the whistle blows.
Hey.
You been looking for me?
- No. - Really?
l thought you'd be wanting to thank me for what l did for him.
For getting your son off drugs.
l mean, l did accomplish the one thing you could never do.
l saved your boy's life.
Fuck you.
Vern, you need to adjust your attitude.
lf not,
l got no reason to keep being the good friend to you that l am.
- Good friend? - Yeah.
lf not for what l have done,
then for what l haven't.
What's that?
l haven't fucked him.
At least not yet.
You see, because l was there for Andrew
when he needed someone, holding him, comforting him,
l think he's developed a little bit of a crush on me.
l have been tempted to at least
deep-tongue him a couple of times,
but l knew that would upset you so l haven't,
even though
he wants me to stick my dick up his ass.
And l'm afraid one of these nights,
he and l alone in our pod,
l'm not gonna be able to control myself.
You'll be dead before you get the chance.
Well, you better hurry.
Keller's getting horny
and O'Reily's been talking about a three-way with Cyril and Andy.
l need to speak with you.
Go ahead.
Over here.
Andy, l'm very proud of you.
Kicking your habit like that.
And l'm hoping
that now you and l can maybe start to have more of a relationship.
What? You mean get closer?
Be a real father and son?
Yes.
Not a chance.
l gotta get back to my pals.
Hey. Those are not the kind of men you should be hanging out with.
As opposed to who?
What, those standup individuals that make up your merry little band?
l gotta tell you something.
My whole life, you crammed into my head
how superior we white folks are.
l don't see the truth in that.
Yeah, l look around this room and l see white faces
and black faces, every colour in between,
and the only thing that l know for sure
is that we're all shit.
You know, shit don't come in degrees.
White or black, shit is shit.
So fuck everything you believe in,
fuck everything you stand for, and fuck you.
Don't you dare talk to me like that!
Oh, man, you hit me way too many times growing up!
Get the fuck back!
Get the fuck away from him.
- You fucking liar! - Take him to the hole.
Fuck you! Fuck you!
You fucking asshole!
Fucking guard! Fuck you!
Fucking asshole!
A man does everything he can for his children.
He provides for them,
worries about them,
sacrifices everything for their happiness.
What's this?
lt's a little present from your father.
But when your own flesh and blood renounces you,
you have no choice but to renounce them.
My son, Andrew, is dead to me.
My son...
...is dead.
Phase 4, this is Radio 320. We got a problem here.
Prisoner's OD'd.
We're too late for the medics. Send the morgue boys.
lt worked.
Plan worked perfectly.
Yeah.
The worst day
is when you wake up and realise
you'll never get another piece of mail again.
Your family can't take it anymore,
your friends forget,
even the folks at charity correspondence start to back off.
Soon, you'll give anything
for another piece of mail with your name on it,
to let you know you still exist,
to let you know you still matter,
even to Ed McMahon.