ΥI never knew I was ready to do something
until someone asked me to do it.
Like the first time I picked up a guitar to
lead a song which I never would have done
had another songleader not told me it’s time.
Suffice it to say no-one died from my efforts
and now at least a part of my mortgage is paid
by intertwining souls with music and voices.
It doesn’t always work out that way. When they
promoted me to shift manager at McDonald’s
(pausing for shocked reactions about the Jewish
vegetarian poet who used to work at McDonald’s)
because I was so good at the window, flawless really.
It didn’t work out and after the incident with the
lunch rush and too-slow counted cash register drawer
I was gone. I landed on my feet, as most nineteen
year-olds do with a plush Radio Shack job where
I quickly became the top salesperson, though
I infuriated the owner one day when he saw
I’d put one of his neck ties I found in the back room
on display with a price tag. I left that job of
my own accord when they offered me an opportunity
to press buttons at a radio station. I also got to
point at people when it was their time to talk.
It was a dream, until the place was sold, and
without wanting to detail every instance of my life
in this one poem (I mean, really, who has the time)
it all worked out fine. Now I press other buttons
and the mortgage people are happy.
I couldn’t have done any of this without others
putting their mouths behind me and urging me
forward with their words. Moses, on the breath of
the biggest words possible defeats an empire
starts us on our way home.