I can’t tell if I have accomplished enough that i deserve (many) days like that, or if i will look back and curse the Sundays I wasted.
Part two in a three part series that begins here
“Look I haven’t been for-real in love in years.
Finding a girl these days has nothing to do with warm feelings inside,
It’s more like doing a jigsaw puzzle and
Trying to find a piece that fits.
The only girl I’ve had super warm fuzzy feelings for
is that girl in my department at work and she’s unavailable too.
Plus she wouldn’t even fit.”
Part one in a three part series, based on emails exchanges between three friends of mine who are experiencing the world from slightly different ages.
(this is by request: a poem about omitting all of the stupid jobs I have/had and the lifestyle choices I am living with from my totally non-representative pro resume, while I try to find a job that will hire me for grownup employment on the grounds of the small handful of sort of legitimate, low-paying work that I’ve done, that is vaguely related to “professional life” when looked at sort of out of context, that itself I was somehow “fortunate” to have been initially hired for on essentially no professional grounds whatsoever, and how this resume will eventually land me in the employment of a person who has no actual fundamental understanding of what I can do or who I am, but how this doesn’t matter because I will do my work well regardless, because any idiot can do 95% of all jobs. “Greetings From My Mid-20s”)
Shall I cut off my ponytail?
Shave my face?
What price thou, paycheck?
Thou sweet, elusive paycheck.
For thy sake I will
Drag myself into a Banana Republic
And pick out some chinos.
Chinos aren’t too dorky, right?
And at thy service I will
Eventually stop getting wasted
(I don’t think that now,
But I will learn.)