I haven't done much, you know.
Not like the others.
I travelled when I was nine, thirteen
with my family
who liked to wake up at 7 am,
go to bed by ten,
and hated the sight of people kissing.

I haven't got a great job,
it's enough to pay bills
but not buy a house,
a dog,
a family,
a car.
I do eat well though.

I can't play the cello,
the instrument of human emotion,
and I'm not very good at that either.
I started with the piano, moved on
to the guitar
yet the notes eluded my fingers as
I avoid birds in the air that fly
frighteningly close to my face.

I guess I'm good at nothing,
and that's something
as I'm walking to my beat up car
in my beat up city
wearing my beat up jacket.
At least I can feed myself today.