What’s the price you pay
for the money that you make?

This seventy hour work week
will someday get old.
You are not wrong about that, my friend.
This forklift will not fly forever
even before out-of-touch leaders
erect fatal error walls for us to crash into.

Never again will I allow myself complacency.
Saying every job will have bull shit
is just the boys will be boys
of the working world.
Never let your management forget
they’re also working for you.

Just like social contract theory.
You (probably) can’t depose your boss,
but you can retract your talents–
easier said than done, of course.
It’s your job to stay prepared,
though it gets harder the more you have.

All this is to say I’m doing all right now.
Jobs are so much easier to bear
when men aren’t actively wishing you dead,
even if they’re working you to death.
That’s what vacations are for
(beach and ocean, here I come!)

I am finding new shades of success,
if I’ve had to let go of a few goals.
I can keep pushing forward
as long as the better communities I’ve been building
continue to support me.
As long as the words keep flowing.

But when the burnout sets in,
I’ll know it’s time to move on
into whatever new chapter awaits me.
No more trying to make the impossible work
because that often requires someone who is unwilling
to finally decide on making change.

For now, I’ll keep rolling, flying
reconstructing myself one hour at a time.