Life is but a country club.
Weren’t you invited, dear?
Intelligence quotients and aptitude tests,
sorted by layers of filters and ciphers,
to justly court the consummate lifers.
Are you qualified?
The waiting list is growing,
and the company is getting anxious.
Shall we take on some new members,
or watch the squirming a little longer?
Think about it this way,
if you aren’t qualified –
You can always try upstate.
What a lovely estate!
A half-smoked cuban cigar,
and a watchman at the gate.
No, you can’t trust the man
who got lost in his mistakes.
He is untrustworthy.
Do be a doll though, Cindy,
and send a nice postcard.
Poetry by Ted Boughter-Dornfeld Copyright © 2011
Musetherapy 
Feb 15, 2011 @ 05:04:03
Reminds me of Plath’s ‘The Applicant’.
Feb 15, 2011 @ 21:04:52
Thank you, SeaGlass, I love Sylvia’s writing, and that poem. I will have to check out your work soon!