You don't really know what it is I do, do you?
It's flattering;
that I can understand.
Your enthusiasm is charming,
that too, is understandable,
but you sound like my mother
last time I was home
and she grappled with
the idea that I may be
poorly defined,
but it's charming really,
your grasping for a source
of income. I'll wait it out.
And gloat some. Let the idea of unconvention
bloat some.
It's not that serious,
promise,
but not to me.
My fingers
and my wires
crossed;
a boy has got to eat.
