Dry Cleaning Ticket Becomes Instantaneously Relatable
What I left behind
was found on
a table
in a pretty good deli
by an enterprising, but
shiftless poet.
The paper read:
“2 shirts, wine stained
1 pair of pants, linen
1 coat, suede
Special instructions:
Club soda used on shirts,
so stains are light pink.
Can you remove them?”
It was on carbon paper,
with a business logo
and address at the top.
This sluggish sometime
writer wrote what was
on the paper,
using typewriter font,
and put a pic of a red wine
glass falling off a table.
The only words that were added
were at the end:
“...remove them
from my soul?”
It was uploaded
by the time this shortcut
artist finished
going to the bathroom,
to their social media
platform.
They had, within
12 hours,
caused the internet
to shut down briefly.
Within 24 hours,
a book deal was made.
In the next three days,
nominations for several
literary awards.
A streaming service
began writing a mini series
by the end of the week.
By the time
I finally read the notorious
verse,
it was too late.
I knew plagiarism had taken
place.
This poet had a persona,
a marketing team,
a public relations firm,
and their lawyers.
All within one month.
I left all that behind,
apparently,
at a deli counter
next to my mostly eaten
tuna melt and neglected
pickle spear.
It did not last,
however.
An edgy, but lax
writer soon replaced
the other
infamously
by posting
several lyrics from an
obscure, late 70’s
punk album
and directions on
the back of a shampoo bottle.
I left all that behind
when I decided
to have the insane
idea
of using my own words.
@genvieve-of-the-wood December 11, 2018
