At the end of my name
follow three letters
right now they spell
"mop".

folks say it ain't the
way it used to be
jobs- like there's even such a thing as
"beneath me".

I'm a clever little phoenix
I have my flight plan
not an android, nor
academia didn't make me
Galatea

I can wait and remember
I can serve you an ice cream
without forfeiting intellect in
a flurry of sugar cones

I pick my battles gracefully
so I remember what I was taught.

Curl up.
Pay rent.
Rebirth,

then-  

pounce.