You've had enough jobs
in liquor stores, gas stations,
and Chinese restaurants.
But you want your journal
to stay full and you're worried
that the stanzas will stop
after the jobs are done.

Well I was just like you,
afraid to talk to the girl
at the punch bowl.
But in the life after
I was saying, "*******"
to grocery store managers
and wrecking pickup trucks
on starlit Tennessee dirt roads.

We were the kind of kids
that would get erections from lighter fluid
and get suspended for it.
But no matter.
I found mountains to climb
and plateaus to destroy and
repair myself.

I took a look around
and stuck my nose in a flower.
At last, I have found the right words to say.