​Out of all
The good jobs,
Poem,
Why poetry?
 
Bet your parents
Are real disappointed.
 
Why not a
Bank manager?
Real estate agent?
Let’s be practical.
 
Maybe a doctor!?
Even if you
Are not a real
Doctor, but
Play one on TV,
Your parents
Could brag
To the neighbors.
They could finally
Say you’re not
Living in their basement.
Loser.
 
Have you ever
Heard of poetry
Striking it rich?
Get real.
Not unless you’re
Mediocre & make it
To the big time:
Barnes & Noble.
 
Sure, you want
To be one of a kind.
I hear you.
So let’s think of
Anything except
Poetry.
 
I got it!
Big Foot.
 
You already have
Crazed fans.
 
I have seen them online.
On cable TV.
They’re searching for you
Like you’re the messiah.
 
Then you come out on a
Barbara Walters special:
“Hey guys. I’m Bigfoot.”
That would be big news.
Even if you confess
“I have small feet.”
 
Yes!
Then the neighbors
Would stop
Talking about
Their darling
Jennifer.
Jennifer who
Went to
Harvard (big whoop).
Now a bigshot at some
Money-laundering
Financial institution
Making eight fingers
With a house on
Martha’s Vineyard.
 
That would shut
Them humble braggers
Up.
 
You know what?
I say be something
Even better
Even more
Freakin’ awesome:
An extra-terrestrial!
Now that would
Make some noise.
Not Spielberg’s
E.T. though.
He’s a wuss.
 
But please don’t
Abduct anyone
And do freaky things
To their butts.
We get plenty
Of that on
The internet.
 
Then you could
Lend a helping hand
To this doomed planet.
 
Use your powers
For some big
Advancements
Like the ability to eat
Mexican
Without getting gas,
Or, no doubt, cloning.
We want to stay up late
Playing video games.
Sleep all day
While our clone goes
To that mind-numbing
Nine to five.
These are the things
Earthlings really want.
And to find out
Who killed Kennedy.
That’s the first thing.
 
You could always be a cat.
It’s not much work.
An easy job.
Have a funky name like
Sir Meow-Mix-A-Lot.
 
Everyone loves cats.
Except the people we
Don’t talk to.
The “dog people.”
Don’t be one of them.
They’re mutts.
Oops, I meant nuts.
 
Also, don’t be
The moon.
It’s ’s tired of not
Getting paid
For its likeness.
Moon poems are
Pretty cheesy anyway.
 
If only the moon
Had licensed their
Image like
Kim K.
(Kris Jenner
Please don’t sue me for
Unauthorized trademark
Infringement.)
To be on the safe side
I will say like Dolly Parton.
She’s cool.
 
The melancholic &
Alcoholic
Are out too.
We have lost
A lot of good poems
That way.
 
You could always try
Filling a real tough job
Something you’re
Made for…
 
A
Revelation,
Reconciliation,
Path to freedom,
Anecdote to cynicism,
Peace treaty,
Saving grace,
Common language,
Declaration of Interdependence,
Secret to happiness,                                                                                           
A rhyme or reason.


Author Bio:
Alexander Pérez (he/him/his), gay and Latino, has stories and poems published in Trolley (NYS Writers Institute), Whisky Blot, Defenestration, Flash Fiction Magazine, (mac)ro(mic), and X-RAY. He received a James B. Duke Fellowship from Duke University to study Latinx and queer studies. He holds a BA in English from the University at Buffalo and MA in philosophy from the University at Albany. He currently works for the School of Education at the University at Albany. Website: perezpoet.press Instagram/Twitter: @perezpoet