the one.

the one.

i fit a drawing
of what i think you look like
inside a bottle
to throw into the sea
but i didn’t want to poison the fish
so i took it out
and instead
folded it into the pocket
of a man waiting for the bus across town.

there was a note at the bottom of the drawing
a note that you will probably think is funny
years from now
when you find it
tucked in between
some yellowed periodicals
in the archives of the downtown public library.

i imagine you’ll be there
looking just like the drawing
passing through with a half hour to spare
on your way to cure something
or change something
or make something better.

and as the note says
it won’t be long after
before you find me.

dallas clayton.

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