Ungainfully Employed


Triangles run down the lane
Compact cars lead up the street
Housewives let their eyes wander
Praying for the day we’ll meet

My profession requires romance
Free time is my trade
The pen and page are my gods
I am of the hopeless grade

Temptation questions my moral
My faith lacks belief
I must stay strong in this time
And restrain from immoral relief


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