la de, freakin’, da
I just heard the news
you got your M - F - A
well, la de, freakin’, da
your commitment to the craft has been cementedby amassing unbearable, unending debt, to be endured through a string of dead-end jobsenabling you to write poems that confuse the masses while sucking up to annoyingly presumptuous critics
you've got that stash of wordsthat few understand and fewer use to be meted out one or two per poem
faded, forgotten chapbooks will litter your home, car, and backpack as you anxiously anticipate the next timeyou will see your namein some obscure, yet thereby elitist, publicationto impress your parents andbe read by those few, now distant, friends you met while at schoolto get your M - F - A