the impasse

Had Jesse Owens tried his hand
as a sharecropper when at high school,
he might have ended up
being a landlord himself.
Instead, he chose the track as his lifeline.

Within forty-five minutes
his soaring resolve
made him a monarch.

Had I joined the service of a clerical staff
years ago, I might have been
by now, the head of a blissful family
with weepy kids and a beaming wife.

Owens didn’t take long to perceive
his ‘inner potential’.
Neither did Dylan.
Nor did Neruda.

Only, the literary journals
where I send essays, poems & short stories
do not seem to care
to reply.