All those New Yorkers were born

in a place that bleeds with inspiration.

I can barely be inspired

to remove the linens from my torso.

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I thought I was confiding

when I told my brother I was depressed,

but he just said “Oh, we know.”

If you knew, why did you all do nothing?

Dear Jake,

I thought the Han Solo poems were okay, but I didn’t really get the point. You were obviously flipping through channels on TV, but so what.

Dear Jake,

You always kind of seemed like you didn’t like me, and I really don’t know why. I was really trying to be nice to you. Maybe I tried too hard. I probably did.

Dear Jake,

I found your band boring. I actively hope it doesn’t go anywhere. Luckily for me, no band has ever really made it from this city anyway.

Dear Jake,

I think the last time I saw you, you were the doorman at the wrong bar I showed up to. Thanks for telling me it was the one across the street.

Dear Jake,

Jessica used to make fun of you a lot behind your back. First about you going all nice guy on her when she turned you down. Later on that one girlfriend you had that apparently initiated a gang bang when you were out of town. She laughed. I laughed along, but felt bad about it even though I hadn’t seen you in months at that point. Sorry.

Dear Jake,

I was worth more than a halfhearted thanks in the stupid college literary journal. I’d have rathered not being mentioned at all frankly.

Dear Jake,

We had a good talk that one time I drove you home. Pretty sure we talked about Vampire Weekend or something, but it was the only conversation we I that I didn’t feel like you were analyzing me.

Dear Jake,

You should have told me in person I wasn’t going to be in the journal.

Dear Jake,

Sometimes I wonder what you all said about me behind my back.

Dear Jake,

If you really hated my shit so much, just fucking tell me to stop coming to the readings. Why was I good enough to read at roughly half the reading in the semester, but not the journal.

Dear Jake,

Are all sensitive poet types this bad at handling rejection or is it just us?

Dear Jake,

You made it seem like one of my poems made it in. Why did you lie? I really just wanted one page.

Dear Jake,

I threw your stupid journal in the back of my car and the cover got ripped up and it looks like shit. I’m pretty sure it’s in some old piles of shit at my parents house.

Dear Jake,

Get fucked.

Sincerly yours.