The Game of Life

The following poem was written by my colleague and good friend...

The Game of Life
By John Baker

I am a race car driver.
I’m a dead beat dad.
I’m a defense attorney.
I’m a Wall Street cad.
I’m the produce manager at the IGA.
I get intelligence for the CIA.
I spend other peoples’ money.
I’m a lobbyist.
I sell real estate in Phoenix.
I’m a five-finger discount hobbyist.
I’d like to introduce you to my best friend Ben,
Or my other green-back buddy, Mr. Jefferson.
I’m a politician, since the day I was born.
I make homemade movies, some call porn.
I am the fabric of American society.
I am the dirt, the grit, the guts,
The pale underbelly.

I’m the bane of your existence—
You and your wife!
Without me you’d have to go out
And get yourselves a life.
You better not deny it, you’d be me too
If you weren’t afraid of criticizing
The red, white and blue.
You might as well admit it,
We’re one in the same.
As long as you sit there watchin’
While I play the game.

I’m an orchestra director.
I work at the mint.
I teach social studies.
I can’t seem to quit
Smokin these cigarettes,
And drinkin’ the shit—
Diet Coke, Frappacino, Rock Star and beer—
They say it’ll kill you,
But that’d mean I wouldn’t be here…
So, see you later, so long, what’s-your-name.
Go sell yourself for a dime,
and I’ll do the same.
I’m a software designer.
I roll pretzels in the mall.
I speak Spanish with my amigas,
while I vacuum your hall.
I’m a construction worker
I run a warehouse fork lift
And in the summers I’m a fisherman, if you catch my drift.