at heart, I am just a punk rock kid
stuck in a copywriters meeting,
listening to the garbage truck
rumble outside and wondering
if the garbageman is happy
and confident with his station in life.
does he worry about unread emails?
does he fret over sanitary politics?
does he kvetch recycling?
does he wonder about wayward writers?
by noon, I am out of ideas,
left combing my heart for courage
in the face of wavering creativity,
waiting for the second wind
which comes around dinnertime.
One day, I want to be
a Chief Creative Officer.
Wait, no I do not.
One day, I want to be
a garbageman.
at heart, I am just a hip hop kid
stuck in a Dad Bod,
with a West Coast heart
and an East Coast mentality,
pushing my limits
and curating confidence.