Real Writing in the World #4: Be a Ninja Poet

Starbucks Drive-Through Random Acts of Kindness Etiquette

The other day I received a sign.

I was in the Starbucks drive-through and when I reached the window I was told the person before me had paid for my Matcha Green Tea Frappuccino (addicted) and had a note for me.

Sigh.

Don’t get me wrong, random acts of kindness are great, but I don’t like the pressure these kinds of gestures in a drive-through put on the next person who then feels like they should pay for the order behind them (which is for a car full of people and more expensive than their one drink). And so on. And so on. I used to participate and now I usually don’t.

I was intrigued by the note, though.

I said I’d pay for whatever equaled what I was ordering for the car behind me but they had pre-paid so I was off the hook there. The staff handed me the note and on it was written “in loving memory of (insert name here).” There was someone’s name, but I am not including it to protect their privacy.

First, I’m a writer, so I’ve already worked this into a novel I’m writing and I put it on my Six Things list. Second, I’m an editor, so I did what I do. I edited the gesture in my head.

It was coming from a good place, and I respect people's attempts to do something positive and healing with their loss, but I didn’t know “insert name here.” And though it’s sad for anyone to lose someone they care about, I didn’t ask to be intimately drawn into a stranger’s grief because I owed them for my drink.

I felt weird, wondering if I was supposed to carry the dead person with me for the rest of the day and would it be disrespectful if threw away the paper? The gesture must have been meaningful to the person who left the note, but it it was one-sided and finite and it changed the vibe of my day.

If you’re thinking I’m a delicate flower you’re right. Let me remind you that, as writers we have to stay open and receptive, and that porousness sometimes backfires.

What would I have preferred?

Welcome to our fourth writing adventure: be a ninja poet.

What happened in the drive-through felt like a sign to share this writing adventure with you and pass on a gesture that, had I experienced it instead, would have felt magical and expansive, and a reminder that we are all connected, even if the poem had been about the loss of someone.

A poem makes things bigger. Deeper. A poem calls you to think and feel beyond your human borders.

By “be a ninja poet” I mean be secretive, stealth, covert. I’m not saying dress in black and scale the walls of some building to spy on people. Or worse. Take whatever you were thinking down a lot of notches!

How to prepare:

You’ll just need your computer/cell phone/poetry books, some paper, and a pen or markers.

You don’t have to be a poet for this exercise. If you are, you can certainly use bits of your own poems. It’s up to you.

Okay, okay. Yes, you can dress in black.

Here’s the adventure:

• Use the Poetry Out Loud Random Poem Generator or the Poets.org website (scroll down there are several suggestions to get you going).

• Or pull out some poetry books you have or go to a bookstore or library and choose some randomly from the shelves.

• Read through some poems and write down the lines that grab you on a piece of paper. Not too much! Respect the poet and the murky rules about quoting.

• Per my above experience, don’t pick anything too sad, or dark, or intense. You want to acknowledge your mutual humanity, but also give the other person a boost in some way. They might really take what you’ve left to heart; it should encourage them and make them think, not upset them.

• Include the name of the poem and the poet (respect!) so the person can find the whole piece later.

• Collect from poems from a diverse group of poets.

• Make sure not to pick only poets you like or have read. Challenge yourself. Maybe choose poems your alter ego would love. If you haven’t read that post it’s here.

• If you want to honor someone, pick their favorite writer and just focus on them (but don’t write “in loving memory of “insert name here"” on the card).

• Collect a minimum of five (5).

• Head out of the house on errands, or on a hike, or to the grocery store, or the doctor’s office, or the gym. Whatever your day holds.

• Wherever you go, leave the poems—under a jar of spaghetti sauce at the supermarket, propped on the sink in the restroom of a restaurant, or like me, in the handle of the gas pump at the gas station.

I went on this adventure yesterday and it was fun to figure out where to leave the poems and not have anyone see me. A poem is a dialogue, a time machine, a message from the universe, permission to feel feelings. The reader can make anything of it they wish. It’s their choice.

Most important: the other person is finding it on their own. They can take it or leave it.

And, of course, have some fun with it!

Keep a few of these in your car and the next time you’re in the Starbucks drive-through and the random act of paying for others strikes, give one to the staff and tell them to ask the next person if they’d like a poem and pass it on if they say yes.

These are the poems I shared:

“Christmas, 1970” by Sandra M. Castillo

“Spellcaster” by Jeannine Hall Gailey

“Ghost Dance” by Sara Littlecrow-Russell

"I’m a Bad Engineer” by Chidozie George Emesowum

“Respiration” by Jamaal May

“Wind, Water, Stone” by Octavio Paz

“A Wing and a Prayer” by Beth Ann Fennelly

Take it one step further:

Something fun I did almost 10 years ago when I was literary arts program director for my state arts council was to create coasters with excerpts of poems from Baltimore-based poets (or poets who had had a presence in Baltimore): Poe, Mencken, Gertrude Stein, and some Maryland Poets Laureate. These were distributed in some bars around the city.

Why not make yourself some coasters with your own poetry or prose on them and leave them in places with a link to your website?

Or perhaps for your book? :)

Let’s welcome the wild in the next newsletter.

Happy writing ninja poets,

Chris