With no ideal medium,
no concept of what genre I may be remotely good at
(or earnestly interested in for that matter),
I am wondering whether I chose the wrong path.
Maybe I should have been an accountant.
Glued to a swivel chair under fluorescent lights,
fifty hours a week.
Two weeks paid vacation.
And I'd sit in the restroom stall each work day,
avoiding the unavoidable.
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