All my life I am saying
“What’s my job?!” and
taking whatever I hear about
as maybe the Answer.

My job is being crazy,
having a headful
of ideas that have
driven everyone insane
and making antibodies.

My job is having no job
to put before our
job with The Big J.

Every time I think
I have an answer to the
American Question:
“What do you do?”
it turns out sooner or later I’m
laid off from every Identity.

Some day, people say, the answer
will be “I’m dying!”

Meanwhile I'm a flower
sneezing in the Spring air.

Forrest Curo
May 5, 2003