There is a bench with two gold stiletto heeled shoes, abandoned. It is 10:14 am, but they arrived at 2:14 am. I’ve gone missing. Search closely for the clump of hair, 1/2 an earring, my skin cells, blood. I won’t be returning. You may forward all mail here.
My bench is the one with blue and white blanket. Would you believe I’ve had that since childhood? How old do I look? The seams are all ripped open, most of the stuffing is gone, replaced by dead mosquitoes, ants, bed bugs. Don’t take my pillow. Leave it for the next guy. Wanna send a letter? Hide it beneath the painted wood.
I am the seventh bench on Eastern Parkway. Starting from where? Starting from one. Catch me snoring from 3 am – 10. I got weapons hidden in my knees. My hair is contagious. I spit blood and mold. Don’t bother me.
I never pick the same one: benches, girls, apples, moods. I don’t need to be tracked. Not looking to be found. You can still send a letter though. I’m good at unearthing the lost.