A year without money, a year without sex,
A year without working, a year with the Czechs;
A year drinking Moxie, a year out-of-doors,
A year selling Avon, a year without drawers;
A year in Las Vegas, a year in Thailand;
A year with the Mob pulling down eighty-grand.
A year as a dentist or lawyer or cook;
A year in the pay of political crook;
A year and a day in a barrel of pork,
A year in the life of a marabou stork.
A year as a writer who’s taking his ease,
Writing a book that is just a reprise.
© Torkythai. All rights reserved by the author.


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September 20, 2009, 02:11
I like the rhythm and I like the words--I'm just not sure where I ended up.