Read my manuscript.
I wrote: “The sky darkened.
The rain beat down in a fury.”
I stole those lines from someone
But I can’t remember who
And that someone surely
Stole them from someone else,
Who stole them from someone
Else and so on and so on
In a nearly infinite regression
That goes back to God.

What I’m trying to say
Is that I’m a thief.

So when I knock on your door
Don’t let me in.