Intrusive Thoughts, Part 2: How to Bomb a Job Interview

My mirror adds ten pounds, but not ten years ahead.

In fact, at age ten, I thought now I'd be dead.

I'm not just too impatient to make five year plans;

(Do it)

I have found them torn up in reality's hands.

I'm not famous for striking out baseball stars.

I am not—and I won't be—the first man on Mars.

(C'mon.)

I'm no diplomat

(Do it.)

I don't spend my days authoring bestselling tomes,

Nor in teaching the youth to write things of their own.

(Do. It.)

I had each of these dreams, of these plans, hopes, and fears,

(What would happen?)

and each of them went bust in under five years.

(Everyone would notice you.)

So why speculate? I just started anew.

There's really no telling what else I could do.

(Everyone would know.)

Sure, there are a few things I might like to do,

But they're hardly worth thought, let alone telling you.

(You're just chicken.)

If there's one thing life's taught me, it's that time's current flows

Fast enough that a paddle won't change where you go.

As for me, I've always preferred wait-and-see.

(Bet you won't...)

There's no 4-D map drawn to show where I'll be,

But wherever I am, and wherever I go,

(Do it.)

I'm sure I'll survive. It's the one thing I know.