Unknown

Yesterday an American girl
asked me,
'What do you do?'
I couldn't answer.

I fix broken things
I sit alone resisting the urge to drink
and write drivel.
I answer a calling,
my calling?
I wipe my ass standing up.
I surround myself with beautiful things
to hide
to hide
I think, but rarely am.
I seek desperately 
to be worthy
of love.

This and that,
it's not that interesting.
How about you?