A poem in the form of several unsolicited emails
Dear Sam Reich It has been one day since I met you On the streets of Edinburgh and gave you a flyer to my show I say “gave you a flyer” It has been one day since I saw you Said “oh my fucking god, are you Sam Reich” And you said “yes” And I flapped at you for several minutes Then you rescued me by noticing I was carrying flyers And asked for one. I wanted to thank you for your kindness
I have never been one to get starstruck, but the words are stuck still in the roof of my mouth I hope one truth came across amidst my luck-tangled words that I think you are good I cannot think of a more fanciful or slick-lettered way to say it: I just think each day is better For the smiles you scatter.
Dear Sam Reich It has been three days since you took my flyer And I have remembered I also oughta say: I find the way you psychologically torture your friends Aspirational. The way you do harm without hurt The way you flirt with mischief The way you put the details into devilry Put the benign into benighted And leave your victims brightened Given the victuals of mirth and suffering
I am someone who keeps eir heart In my tongue, my fingers, my feet When some affection lingers in me I must express it by kicking people gently You can tell I trust someone When I become willing to read them for filth My love language is nuisance
So I see something in your full-throttled knives-out insouciance I wish to bottle.
Dear Sam Reich It has been 5 days I cannot help but notice you have not come to my show I know there is no obligation But let’s face it: this is rude. I know you’re a busy person And if you did things just because it would make your fans happy You’d be endlessly pushing the rock of our expectations Up the hill of diminishing returns But I note that you did say it sounded like your kind of thing. Did you lie to me Sam Reich? Did you? There is, however, still time to correct the error
Dear Sam Reich It has been one week since you took my flyer I hope you have been having a good time I hope you have heard poetry that made your ears bleed with its beauty I hope you have laughed so hard your jaw has permanently changed shape I hope you thoughts were so provoked they fought someone outside a pub I know mine have And I hope you know you would have an even better time If you had come to my show.
Dear Sam Reich I hold onto a little fantasy that you’ll see my show And I’ll recommend another spoken word thing And you’ll go And someone will tell me in the bar “Sam Reich, CEO of Dropout, came to my show!” And I’ll say nothing But inside I will know: I did that.
Dear Sam Reich I wish I had told you Your shows make me think Life has colour in it On greyscale days
Dear Sam Reich It has been ten days since you took my flyer It seems unlikely you will see my show But perhaps Perhaps Perhaps You have been playing the best of tricks You are, after all, committed to the bit. Perhaps you have been hiding in the sound cupboard And have been there the whole time. If so, I am not going to open it.
Dear Sam Reich I note that you have one chance left to see my show. Or not. I'm chill.
