lousy mail

the time comes when the tank runs
empty and you have to have a
refill.
if you can get one.

the vulture swoops low over
you
as you open the manila envelope
from the eastern college and
read:
“will have to pass on this batch
but we are reading again in the
Fall.”

“you were rejected?” asks my
wife.

“yes.”

“well, fuck them,” she says.

now, there’s loyalty.

the vulture pauses in midflight,
whirls about
and flies out of the dining room
window.

and I think, it’s nice: ¬†they’ll be
reading again in the
Fall.