my pity party
high on three pints of beer and bourbon
a cadre of opened and unopened wine waiting in the wings
i read the rejection of my new poetry manuscript
then talk shit about how whatever those fuckers put out
won’t be half the book that mine was
have my pity party, promptly get drunker and then pass out
wake up the next morning, delete the press, the editor
from my goddamned facebook page and feel good for a moment
before taking up the yoke of another day
as the most underappreciated writer in america.
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