Danger Pay

Raise me

Thirty-five...Thirty-six?

Old enough to need the math

Father, God, Professor, Pimp, Akela...

I don't know the white birds that sit in parking lots

Facing the wind and the sunset

I don't know the May flies from the June bugs

Which splash the same on windshields anyway

I don't know the flowers authors paint into their fantasies

and my five dollar dictionary is no good for fifteen dollar prose

Just raise me, or give me a raise

you aqualung salesman on mushrooms

you worker bee with tits

filling me with your dusty dreams

Crowning me with your construction paper genius cap

Tell the boss why I play dumb on the job

Tell the pastor why I left bibles on his doorstep

Tell the cop why I don't trust traffic signals

Tell the pretty girls why I don't make passes

Tell the tax man why I delegate math

 

When I see the big picture

I talk to the big guy

I know where all the bodies are buried

I know how to make them come

And I remember calculus

But I found a childless patriarch

and said, “let's do it again”

I renounced the title for danger pay