Volume 24, Number 4

Snowed In

I hadn’t even mailed
my letter to the editor
of the Observed Sun
when the phone rang
and a Very Serious Voice
began admonishing me
for what it called
my harsh criticism
of the Estab-Admin.
I rudely interrupted
to ask how they could know
what I’d written
when they hadn’t
received the letter yet.

An embarrassed silence,
then the hang-up click.

Thinking it over
it seems to me
the only possible explanations
for their prescience are:
they’re reading my mind,
they’re calling
from the future, or
they’re a lot more
than I give them
credit for.

—Neal Wilgus