ambitiously.
i figure to get a poem published
on the pages
of the new yorker
magazine
i'll have to meet
and sleep with someone
on the staff.
i'm in over my head though.
all columbia grads.
harvard,
the ivy league schools.
how will i get past
the guard.
how will i schmooze
my way into
their arms
with a poem taken from
my stash.
it seems hopeless,
as i sit in a cab
on fifth avenue
eating a hot pastrami sandwich
and a deli pickle,
from Katz's.
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