This is a letter on account of that poem
You left in the hallway.
I was walking by, and I saw it on the floor
All torn into pieces, and well
I'm a sucker for puzzles.
Two nights ago, I spent almost two hours
Painstakingly placing the pieces in particular places on
The looseleaf
Well, I recreated your poem like the deepest lyrical anthropologist.
It's all glued and taped together now, and what an irony that it was only
Love poetry from ninth to twelfth grade.
The lines are not that bad, but a little trite,
Someday, the girlfriend and boyfriend you used to call yourselves
Will grow up and away and apart.
And I will never ask either of you why
You left your poem on the hallway floor in little shreds.
I could look you up, find you, I have your name after all...
But I would rather leave the story up to my imagination.
This is merely me expressing my appreciation for the puzzle
You left on the linoleum for me to solve.