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 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.