Garbage In/Garbage Out

Trash bags in the truck bed

Lonely traffic stopped for construction

Daylight existence again

Ten dollars for the dump

People screaming and children

At the post office

Scowls and stares and yelling

And disconcerting lack of patience

For one and all

In the car I’m thinking of

How much a failure I am

And when will I sell a book

And why don’t women want me

Who is the secretary of defense?

I knew that once

Biographies get more and more lonely

Each time you have to put

“And never published”

After the increasing line of credits

And letters that indicate you should have

A Hugo award to even apply

Do not dry the garbage muck

From your hands

Or stop the screaming children

We are all awash in the brilliance

Of these promoted writers

I just want to mail some letter to no one

And not feel bad about it

Ever again