Barry Meyer

I

I’m walking down the streets of the cities of the world and I find that my face has fallen off.  On my knees, a mere speck on the planet, I implore the streets to return my face.  I must have created a  scene, because the media was notified. They came with their cameras, their lights, their pencils.  “Who are you?”   “Just a guy trying to find myself in the cracks and crevices of the world,” was all I could think of.  Suddenly there I am!  On the news, in the paper!  I can tell it’s me because my face is right there on the screen.  My face.  I’ve found it!  I peel it off the TV and put it back on, and now everyone knows who I am.

“I”  is one that I wrote sort of free style like.  I picked the topic of anonymity vs. fame, after watching a story on people who won lotteries, and how they were thrust, involuntarily, into the spotlight.