Waking the crazy day.
Less inviting when I'm pushed
mentally.
But physically I carry it with ease,
with rhythm.
Con gusto I run, I jump and lift.
It's an adventure that no one understands.
I see the result,
my work with purpose.
I claim it as my own,
I flaunt it.
And yet others are complacent
with static transfers as progression
is as slow as their next beer,
is as frequent as their last date.
I am not common with my
comrades.
We share the same occupation, but
seldom equal sentiments.
I slave to help while they slave
for pay.
Well, that's not entirely real.
Even I have to eat.
(at the Bores Head) 8/30/2013 1:12 pm
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