somewhere in the set
you call my job my hobby and my hobby my job
someone says to me "keep the faith" IN ALL CAPS
and i go, WTF, you are a minister
you are a gay man married to a repressed lesbian
who had a child together in wedlock
of musical comedy
tuna finish in a can
and fill an expectant evening with brine
there are dreams which even i cannot muster into realism
let's move to paris
a. in the springtime
b. when i graduate
c. never i'm kidding
d. when i become someone i'm not
i said paris, but really i meant something else.
and then you call me a hippie and i accuse you of trying to assign me an identity
and that other guy makes fun of a theoretical haircut
which we all understand to be mine in reality
no, corporate life is not meant for me despite all the best attempts
at cozy dreams
there are dreams which even i cannot munster into realism
because the moon is actually quite far away despite its appearance
and aspirations to united stateshood
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