form rejection

i collect the copy-paste emails
that say, "we didn't like you enough
for this job." i hold grudges. if you don't,
how the hell do you stay alive? 
once i went out to dinner to try
to impress someone to give me money.
i felt worse than when i was a girlfriend
for hire. i kept reminding myself to smile.
the woman talked about her garden
& i didn't give a fuck about that. 
i wanted to talk about the mountain recently
catching fire again or maybe the fact that
gender was out there growing legs. 
raise your hand if you make enough money
to be happy. put your hands down. 
anyone who tells you
money doesn't buy happiness has never
been so hungry that the world started
to turn into tofu. has never savored 
a shower in a planet fitness. i'm not trying
to hold an olympics for "i'm more 
ravenous than you" but i do want a little more
anger & a little less "that's just how this goes."
it doesn't have to. sometimes i wish i would
have left that interview halfway through.
i would have said, "there is a hole 
in the sky that is calling me more than this."
i wish we could get real with each other.
i want people to tell me i didn't get the job
to my face. i want them to say,
"you looked too crazy for our 
pretty white building." then i can laugh.
i'm convinced i can hear it between 
the form rejection's lines. i don't apply
to jobs anymore. i plant garlic. i leave offerings
for fairies on the windowsill. i check my bank account
like a morning mass. no eucharist
just the stingy taste of spruce tips
from the cutting board. sometimes feed my fingers
into parking meters to buy myself
just a little more time.