Reduced to temping, by Matthew Rohrer, text copied from Jobless Bitch.
Some people are offensively timid.
When I stand near them, and if I
haven’t seen any other people for weeks,
I feel like a star’s bodyguard
and the timid person is an egg or worm.
Alone, I rush across
rainy sidewalks with no umbrella,
with my shoulders drawn in. My ribcage locked.
Something moves overhead at all times:
I am sometimes more, sometimes less, aware
of this looming constant. Lean your head back
and think about that for a few seconds:
you’re very tiny, you’re in outer space.
You see I’m right.
I finally understand what I’ve been writing for the last week, the intelligence of the narrator has logic now that causes things to happen, my thoughts feel clearer, I see tasks around me now that need completion, and I feel that I can complete them though it may take some time.