Sixty Stories Quit My Job
I sling lattes evenings and weekends.
The bleach stains on my black jeans are covered up with marker.
I'm gonna quit my job
And stop the locks with glue.
I'm gonna quit my job
And spend the week with you.
I'm wiping counters slowly and watching
The suits and skirts lick lips and choke down chicken.
We could go swimming or read books out loud, maybe
Fly kites instead of working for six bucks an hour.
I'm gonna quit my job.
I'm gonna quit it tomorrow.
