what job title do you see me having?
where do you see me living?
i’m trying to be something different
hung inside the skin of quiet
not succumbing to the marketing maw
foot against the door
space heater for the thaw
not looking to score
points for asking for more
i want to be a pen
i want to be a typewriter
i want to be a word processor
i want to be a computer
zen
prizefighter
mother confessor
random shooter
it’s all a work of art
we set it all apart
just go back to the start