Ah ha! At last I know what happened to the draft of one of my best poems. About six years ago, as I was about to board my plane for Arkansas, Catherine Tufariello accosted me at the Gate supposedly to say goodbye and wish me a safe flight. In the confusion, she walked off with my bag, in which was stored an almost -finished draft of a dramatic monolgue I'd just written called "Useful Advice." Imagine my surprise when I was teaching my Intro to Creative Writing class, using Sam Gwynn's Penguin poetry anthology, and I discovered my poem published under the name of that notorious bag-snatching plagiarist Catherine Tufariello. Can that unpronouncable name really be her own? Mark Jarman, who taught Catherine "Fingers" Tufariello in a master class this year better watch out or we may all be treated to *Unholy Sonnets II* this time next year.
Marilyn, the first time I met you at West Chester you claimed to have recently suffered a fall that left you with a still-healing nose. Clearly, the injured nose was not caused by a fall, but by plastic surgery in your sad attempt to look like Timothy Steele. Ironically, before your "fall" and recovery, you already bore an uncanny resemblance to another poet, who made an even bigger splash at West Chester this year --James Fenton. You should have left well enough alone. Even today, beneath the wig and extensive surgery, the uncanny resemblance to that British poet can still be detected by a close observer.
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