You came unwarranted.

You were the Manhattan Yeti–
large and hairy;
ape-like with dark reddish hair,
emerging from Ground Zero
then hiding behind the internet
and indie films and poorly written literature;
beside Sarah Jessica and Meryl,
with your thick tongue and mangled words:
“Me talk pretty. . .Me talk pretty one day.”
You were the reason of my fame,
suggesting I was better than Author X,
claiming that he was:
 “El primo caca asshole cocksucker piece of shit”
You were ruthless and cruel.

Believing in you made me believe in me.

You left no trail to follow
except 2 emails saved;
1 postcard;
1 handwritten card,
and a number of online interviews
from over a decade.
All bases were covered.
All doors were closed.

You disappeared from
Google, Yahoo, Ask.com, and Bing;
Facebook and LinkedIn.
I’ve placed your photos on milk cartons,
but no real leads.
I pursued you like you pursued me,
aggressively, like Chelsea bathhouse syphilis.
But I returned negative.

I just wanted to say:

You were were right with what you said;
wrong for what you did.

But you left too soon for me to say this.

[This is #3 of 30 poems written by Stephen Earley Jordan II  for a National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). The object is to write  one poem per day.]