Sans patience, sans money, sans
the emotional capacity to scour
the dregs of craigslist one last time,
not to find someone who’s perfect,
not someone who’s going to be
my best friend, my best man, my
heterosexual life partner during
my time in Los Angeles before I
ultimately move back home anyway,
for God’s sake just someone even
remotely normal, not a complete
fucking creeper. Do you have a
history of addiction? Mental disease?
Kleptomania? A foot fetish? Do
you like to stand over strangers
while they’re sleeping at night?
Are you secretly growing pot in
a newly remodeled loft across town?
Will you respond to my ad within
minutes and then fail to write back
when I try to make plans to show
you the apartment? Do you not bathe?
Are you forty-seven years old with
two toddlers and a dog? Would you
describe yourself as bi-polar,
agoraphobic, or unemployed?
Do you have cats, plural?
THEN I DO NOT WANT TO LIVE
WITH YOU SO STOP EMAILING ME
PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!