I was one of two finalists for a state grant
in poetry or fiction, I don’t remember which.
Sometimes I entered as one, sometimes as the other.
This was before they had a category for creative nonfiction.
They had a winner and a runner-up. I was second place.
So the year I won, I didn’t win one. I got a letter from Jim Smith,
the Secretary of State, thanking me for my Contribution to the Arts.
I rubber-stamped two mullet and a shark on the bottom of the certificate,
like it was a losing lottery ticket, and sent it back to Smith, with a note,
saying, “Close, but no cigar.” I wrote a newspaper column called
“Arts Eradication Program Fails.”