The ad dangled,
hung out there sweetly
like a low, inside heater,
so I swung away
aiming for bleachers.
Not an application
to the job offered
but a correction of error
some HR flak made
about qualifications needed.
Why a job
inside one particular state
needs a licence from another
lying with another between
still gives mirth.
I was nice,
just advising them about
the error made in haste,
rather than tossing snark
about substance abuse.
Still, I wonder.
Why can other make
mistakes like that one there,
and any of mine
cost me dearly?
I shade eyes,
watching the moment sail
out of the park slow,
no snark, no vitriol
save this poem.
So, beware all,
I'm in a mood,
likely to "T" off hard
on your errors now,
instead of letting
sleeping dogs lie.
26February2015 - An amused, but still jobless, Dyfedd Rex.
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