I walked along a beach, a northen breeze washed ashore a note in a bottle. It said:
"If you are Zigman Zibanski, come home. I love you.
If not, please find him for me.
I tossed the bottle back into the sea. Shredded the note in my hands. No one, I thought, leaves my blog so easy and free.
LIFE OF A POET - JOHN BUCHANAN
10 hours ago