she made her living
ballooning a start-up founder’s image with verbs
the paychecks shined brighter
than the press tours

“don’t you want your name on this?”
says her concerned mother
“no” the girl replied

after the founder,
was a surgeon
who had a knack for bizarre cases

after the surgeon,
was the basketball star
who was seven feet tall with a one inch finger

then the disgraced country singer
who had two hit singles before killing someone over bingo

then the up-and-coming movie actress
who was earnest, had a Buddhist practice

then the presidential hopeful
a bit of a joke but benefitted big from vocal local support

and all the other presidential hopefuls
their advisors
their advisors’ ambitious children
those childrens’ friends

thousands of people released memoirs because of her
ghostwrite extraordinaire
probably the richest writer
you could never find

ghostwriting became her obsession
she committed deeper and deeper to the craft

no one knows what happened to her
she disappeared

“where have you gone” her mother asks

her answer was
tucked inside the lines of page 67
in Dr. Brown’s Melanoma and Me
but that one never
made it to print

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