I didn’t find a job after my degree,
In society’s eyes I had no right to be.
I decided I’d become an alcoholic hobo,
Stick to playing my old bourbon oboe,
As it was expected from an unemployed mind,
Expectation: not fun with people not kind.
I got brutalized by some police,
Left me in the snow, resting in peace.
Here’s the fun part, I melted all the snow,
Melted it enough till it needed a mow.
Someone with poor circulation came along,
Woke me up and inquired what was wrong.
After my story, she offered me a job,
A human heating unit, warmth with a throb.
All I had to do was keep radiating,
Close to people who were just there, waiting,
Waiting for sleep with cold hands and toes,
I was there to make sure that no one froze.
Under the blanket, emanating heat,
Whistling away, making ends meet.