by David Ignatow
I stand in the rain waiting for my bus
and in the bus I wait for my stop.
I get let off and go to work
where I wait for the day to end
and then go home, waiting for the bus,
of course, and my stop.
And at home I read and wait
for my hour to go to bed
and I wait for the day I can retire
and wait for my turn to die.
* – “The Jobholder” by David Ignatow, from At My Ease: Uncollected Poems of the Fifties and Sixties. © BOA Editions, Ltd., 1998.
I thought that this poem would be a good read for everyone. Remember that although it is glorious to have a job, something that has been included in Creation as important, when does our quest for a proper job become the only thing we live for. Remember that on your gravestone are two dates: your birth and your death, but the only thing people remember about you is the dash between them, which represents your life.