wherever you go there you are

One time I applied to a poetry workshop
I was put on a waiting list
The heart is a powerful muscle
The size of a good-sized fist
I waited for years to hear back from
Those poetry workshop guys
I filled one big bowl up with red wine
Another I filled up with lies
Poetry never betrays you
It just moves all the goalposts around
Til your head is a hustle of goatfeet
and your own feet divorced from the ground