He puts on his apron every day
and dusts, arranges, bests;
but the more finicky his entryway,
the fewer, it seems, the guests.

*****

This little poem was sparked by the difficulties I have in trying to submit to some magazines and in trying to contribute to some discussions. Eventually I give up. And then make snarky comments.

It was recently published in The Asses of Parnassus – thanks, Brooke Clark (who makes the contribution process very simple!)

Illustration: “Man holding an envelope with a feather duster. [front]” by Boston Public Library is licensed under CC BY 2.0.