I wrote to you, requesting a reference letter for admission into your MFA program. My creative writing mentor at the college did not give me a reference letter. I really liked you. I thought you had the prettiest blue green eyes. I was encouraged to apply and see what happens. By the time you agreed that I could copy-and-paste multiple haiku on a single page, I already snail mailed sixty-six of my poems in tiny, but legible font and within the ten to twelve-page limit. I was rewarded with silence. You sought refuge from junior colleagues as there was no WIFI in Paris and now were researching in Rome. Mark was in Mexico and Elizabeth was in Thailand. All three of you would sift through applications in January.
How can there not be WIFI accessible to the French? Your excuse was there was no WIFI at the cheap motel you checked into. I learnt you wrote about thin skinned and slightly less acidic lemons from a Facebook post by one of your ex-poetry students. You remained a widower after publishing X: Poems, so I took photographs of myself in a light yellow felt banana fascinator, an appealing banana costume and Ted Baker green loafers to cheer you up. I sent a .mp4 video wearing a wide brimmed Stetson cowboy hat to make you giggle. There was an iPhone shot of me deep throating a 25-inch crochet banana. I told you my secret desire was to be your Bond girl. Frustrated by my overly enthusiastic behavior, you made my acquaintance with the not-so-friendly Assistant Program Director. My narcissistic father warned me not to irritate you.
Finding a strange comfort in the silent treatment, I reached out for you to look over an updated edition of my poetry manuscript that I would upload the following week. You did not answer. Soon, I read on Grad Café that admitted students were emailed and later phone called to discuss funding. I begged numerous times to change the In-Progress status of MyUI application. It gave us both an emotional high that I chased you every day.
It ended up with me pursuing your sweet, blonde haired and chubby office assistant for my result. She told me that admission letters were sent on Tuesday morning. Calls were made to accepted students, but those on the short wait list were left in the tumbleweeds. I did not want to wait on the USPS truck, so she scanned and emailed a PDF document. I requested her to thank you and apologize on my behalf. I never heard back.
