Dear Bill Murray,

Once I had a friend with the last name Murray.He didn't look like you, but he was sort of funnyand moody. He likened his love life to fruit salad.That was kind of the end—not wanting to be a cherry,a pear or whipped cream.

Bill Murray, The Life Aquatic's my favoritemovie, even though people squintin confusion. All that blue. I pretend to be the seahorse,Angelica Houston or the leopard shark,depending.

I have a photo on my memo board.I'm sure you look oldernow. Bill Murray, there's no wayI'm your biggest fan. You and your golf cartantics. I might kiss you—if there was only thatmoment—and then, nothing.

What else, Bill Murray? It smells like bugrepellant in here. Strange, but it holdscomfort to know something in the middleof all these strangers. Also, a smidge of cranberrywafting from my spill, which is not comfortjust sticky.

I bet you're a lot like my dad, Bill Murray.Bill Murray, I wouldn't care to meet you.Instead, I'll still like you. Instead, I'll pretendyou're really the man who kisses Scarlett Johanssonand whispers something to make everythingas good as it can be.