To the editors of [insert mag/review/zine/journal name here],
Please consider my piece titled, “Squirrel Talk” (265 words) that I have been dwelling on/ have been procrastinating on/have been refusing to write on/finally did one draft on/stared on/hated on/got up at 5 AM because I couldn’t stop thinking on/rewrote on/edited on/don’t want to stare at anymore on a squirrel in the park.
In this piece I talk to a squirrel on a park bench. They are a big supporter of state’s rights which I’ll admit seems like an opinion that should have died in the 1870s. We do not argue about this since I am not well-versed in politics, but I do not agree with them unless the state government agrees with me then I’m pretty sure I do agree with the squirrel. So, I sit there in this weird Schrodinger’s thought experiment where both states of the state government agreeing/not agreeing with me exist at the same time while the squirrel, whose name I learn is Derrick, chomps loudly on an acorn before chasing the strong tannins with a black raspberry. It seems they’re a little drunk. Maybe we both are.
This poet writes for the cowards or the easily cowed if you’re the kind of mag/review/zine/journal averse to a little name calling. You can find me on Twitter/X/the site formerly known as Twitter in the comments of a blue-check marked engagement bait tweet/xeet where I’m listing my top four favorite state universities.
Thank you for taking the time to read my hybrid/philosophical/existential/oh God, what am I doing with my life poem.
The poet
Elijah Woodruff (He/Him) is a high school English teacher who doesn’t do it for the money but wouldn’t mind being paid a little more. He spends his free time drinking way too much coffee and hanging out with his wife. You can find him on twitter: @Woodrelli
Comments