I’ve become a slave to outcomes,
Some expected,
Some engineered to happen.
My day runs like an estimation problem:
I search for the best parameters,
I search for the best people;
For gaps to fit in,
For perforations to soak into
Backed by the illusion of need
Seconded by a veil of fulfilment
That would supplant what I have lost.
With my desires stationed at the cockpit,
Decisions braised at traffic control,
I’ve been fairly successful.
Built bridges over oceans,
Built canals over mountains;
I’ve been my own puppeteer,
Applause guiding my movement,
Appraisal calling the tune of my words.
I don’t want me to be that puppeteer
I’d want me to be,
Like a snake charmer
Who does it solely to amuse the snake;
Like a contortionist
Who does it solely to spite chiropractors;
Like an astrologer
Who does it solely to screw over strangers;
I write this because I can,
None of it is an aphorism:
I’d want me to be,
Because I can.