Help Wanted

I don’t get to too many places alone

I have the ashes of wariness in my pocket

But busted and broke, with idle hands and bad habits,

I began to lose direction in the city


Even though I know a flaneur like me has place and purpose

I stopped to read a sign I know I’d swallow


“By vocation, an angel is different from a servant

A servant retires, an angel remains fervent

Their bodies show what rules they come from

The rules that you follow are the rules you become”


Let me be a pirate instead, with wings for him to spur

So that I can make haste to uncover buried treasure


Let me be a midwife who catches the wet floor

Let me be a midwife who catches those that don’t want to be born


Let me be a warrior

Let me keep my name


I don’t fight alone for too long without thinking that

Fighting alone means I’m fighting for something wrong


It’s okay to defile, it’s okay to concede

It’s okay to deny, it’s okay, so proceed


You can survive a town of cannibals and The Ballad of the Sad Café

(the scratch of my digging claws), waking you with a kiss I’ll say,


“Oh yeah, it’s just me”

Dos-à-dos and do-re-mi


If I be an angel, self-sabotage made you ill

If I’m too spongey, baby, send me the bill

Tyra Jutai