The Professional

I am not safer than a bank

I’m a professional,
it makes me a better whore.

I read about it in magazines & classic literature.
Equal parts class and sick—

everyone seems to have a dick
so suck it.

But what do you expect?
“It’s not a job it’s a career,

it’s not a school, it’s a faculty.”
Well, it’s my job anyway.

But is it my career?
I’m not a man yet so I wouldn’t know.

Everything that I do know
is a matter of life & death.

Where the sun shines the grass is green
or yellow where it burns.

I keep no good words
but I’ve made an oath.

A handshake is only as strong
as a little boy’s hand,

and entitlement is a cruel Lord.
Mom and Pop are proud.

Does it make me a professional—
when I love the harlot’s smile?

[epigraph: matt good]