So, today I was told that I’m not going to get a job out of this internship; want to guess why?
Nope. Uh-huh. Wrong again!
I did too much work; I work through so much of the backlog that the company no longer needs to hire a new Copywriter. Gotta say, I had to laugh at that!
Anyway, here’s a short poem I wrote this morning, before I found out about that!
There is rage in the air of this,
the ideal office environment;
even as a slut and a malefactor
dazzle in an adjacent room.
And I write my poetry when I piss,
otherwise contained behind a desk, a tenant
eagerly awaiting the final tenancy day.
Oh, sales people chatter with the rehearsal of actors,
and I wait for the job; my wife, if I’m the groom.
But I’m a writer now, and used to rejection;
Or a drunk, a philosophical failure with a crippled conception
of time, and logic and base decency;
and, as I dream of villas in Rhodes, I’ll drown myself in the Aegean sea;
A sea I’ve never seen,
But a sea I’ve regarded most intimately!