They shook your hand,

And they patted your back,

And with a pink rectangle note,

You left with a SMACK,

Out of the door in the lobby,

Through the door down the hall,

When one door opens, do other doors,

Stay open at all?

You left with a mug that was chipped, gray and bent,

You had a spare in the car, but this one had a dent,

You left with an ugly square box full of notes,

Which are worthless right now; can you make square notes float?

Just a thought, just a dream,

Just a flush down the drain,

Just a wish, just a hope,

Just so long, Mr. Lame.

You left with a scowl,

And you sank or you swam,

Or you sankswimsinkswam

Like only a real man can.

And you picked up the pieces of trash in the box,

And you thought long and hard,

And then just pitched them like rocks,

No longer will the box sit alone it your room!

No more will you allow your life to be doomed!

So your box was a brick and your life was a window,

And your door was a door but it was more of a cymbal,

CONGRATULATIONS my friend! Pink slips for us all!

The joy of picking yourself up after an especially hard fall.


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I am a teacher-to-be who loves people. I am not afraid of many things. I like to explain my thoughts logically on a very birds-eye view level--I was born thinking that way. I follow Jesus Christ, and I accept only that label to describe my identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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