A Very Likely Lunatic Poem by Alexandra Reiss

I have been to MR. WEITZMAN’S approx.37 times.
I have seen MR. WEITZMAN approx. once.
Well, once and ½
If you count the time I caught a glimpse of him
Smoking pot in the back of his store.

I know what you’re up to MR. WEITZMAN!

I am absolutely 100% sure that nobody has ever bought anything from his bookshop. Maybe it’s the 300 lb. mass of dirty dreadlocked fur and fecal matter that roams around the store under the pretense of being a dog. Maybe it’s because whenever one tries to enter the shop, they are promptly accosted by one of MR. WEITZMAN’S assistants, told that they will not find what they are looking for in MR. WEITZMAN’S store, and given the address of a Barns & Nobel down the street. Maybe nobody has any need for the rare bookbinding and restoration services that MR. WEITZMAN supposedly offers, or for any of his classicsignedfirstedition books.

Or maybe it’s because nobody reads anymore.
Except MR. WEITZMAN & I.

That is why I am going to work for MR. WEITZMAN.
If only I could speak with him.
But how can I when no one will let me?

Is MR. WEITZMAN some big secret?
I wont tell.

I have slipped numerous notes and letters under his store’s door.
I have pleaded for apprenticeship or at least and audience.
PleasetakemeonIsweartoGODI’mnotafreak.
On every note or letter I write, I leave my name and all my contact information.
Twice.

I’m sure MR. WEITZMAN is just taking his time getting back to me.
Maybe he doesn’t know what to write his soulmate.
But I know MR. WEITZMAN’S letter is coming,
until then, I’ll be camping out on his stoop.