When I first started writing my initials were LSD. I used to carry a notebook full of my poetry and short stories in my backpack. A tweaker friend of my brother in law stole my backpack when my husband and I were first dating. 

Damn thief.

I hate thieves.

He sold it to the drug dealing woman up the street for a dime of speed. She loved poetry. Four or so years later I was at her house scoring some dope, when she, after finding out I was a writer, read one of my own poems to me. 

She told me a guy who was hurting for a fix traded her a whole notebook full of poetry by someone with the initials LSD. 

I told her that was me, that it was my poem, my notebook, and the thief had stolen my backpack from my mother in laws house.

She was so happy to finally meet LSD and return my words to me. We became really good friends that day and I never paid for dope again. 

BACK             NEXT