Thursday, March 14, 2013

Jokes on me.

Don't get me wrong, I am a girl who can take a joke.

BUT, this one has gotten a little out of hand:

Two days ago I posted this status update on Facebook:

Just to clarify: I have not posted anything on Craigslist since the nanny-job fiasco of 2012. I was clearly pranked. This was funny to me. Like...status update funny. I love a good prank as much as the next girl. 

BUT THEN... happened. 

It started around 12:10 p.m. when I received a text from an unknown number that began "Hi, I'm Becky, I saw your ad on Craigslist, I don't sleep much either" and ended with a short haiku that she hoped I would "consider." 

When 4 more texts from 4 separate numbers followed quickly after I knew we had a problem. After some serious digging and, at one point, deceiving a poor woman into thinking I was some kind of poetry editor, I found my way to this: (please note that this was posted in the MANHATTAN craigslist) 

It is now 12:08 a.m. 

If Craigslist posts could go viral, then this post was Gangnam Style. 

In less than 12 hours I received 62 texts and 11 voicemails from numbers across the country, every single one accompanied by some form of dramatic, emotional or overall horrendous poetry. 

Part of me feels tickled. This has got to be the best prank ever. 

However, part of me has felt horrible all day long. See, there is a big problem with all of this. A problem I don't think the prankers foresaw. 

Currently, there are 73 people in this world who have given me a part of themselves, no matter how ridiculous and awful that part was (BAD. SO BAD). And these 73 people will spend the next few weeks waiting anxiously for a response. 

I know this because this is what I do every day. I spend hours poring over poems and then sending them out to literary journals and workshop groups and peers and I spend a good chunk of my time wondering what they will think and how they will respond and if I am good enough. All day I have felt the weight of knowing that a response will never come for these people. 

And then I remember that there are 73 people in the world who are using Craigslist to find their big break. And that they responded to an ad that asked them to text a poem. 

And I also remember that one of them sent me his poem one line per text until I had 22 texts from him, and that the last line of his poem was "the soft melody of the dusk of a smile." 

And then I don't feel that bad. 


I have a list of suspects and I will find you. 



  1. I don't know who did this to you, but I'm just about dying with laughter. Well played, whoever it was.

    And yeah... a little sad...

  2. This is really amazing. There is nothing better than bad poetry!

  3. I love your post here, Katie, and the compassionate heart it reveals. Yeah, funny prank, but not to those who just spilled their souls to you.