thinking of old jobs- robert bly (taken from Morning Poems)

[rockyb4me.livejournal.com]

Well, let's say this morning is all of life there is--
Let's suppose the weather(rainy), the room(creamy-walled), the bed(soft), your cells(calm,
Excitable, and dense) are it. Dont expect more.

Then what? Does it matter how you chose
To live at twenty? You felt detatched, let's say,
So you blew your legs and arms off.
Why feel bad? It helped in some ways.

You had more solitude, because friends avoid stumps.
Of course you had to live. You started picking
Other people's cucumbers with your teeth,
As you ley flat on a boad. Dont be ashamed.

It was a deal. It worked. The boss's children
Later sent you back the cancelled contract.
Then remember the job you had lying about
Your health to life insurance companies?

Or performing as a Santa in Depression wards?
All those jobs were right. But that time is over.
Am I content? I am. But we don't
Have to live in the way we did then: Let's talk.