Found Poetry

I shift myself from the constant focus of watching the mailbox in futile hopes that my tenori-on will arrive....

A few months ago, when my New York Times essay got published, I felt like the king of the entire world. Nothing could touch my ego and I bought up many copies of the famed periodical.

I stashed these papers underneath our coffee table where people often lay their feet. Today I looked down and found a scrap of paper torn from my headline on the front page.

It reads...

Love
About Me?
So Creepy
Walkowski

Truer words have never been spoken.