Nevertheless, the Worship of the Worship

Tim Scorko

Someone's job is to pull garbage out of the dumps,

Someone's job is to kiss the gods boots,

And I'm answering the unasked questions.

This is the case, no more stupid than any other.

Questions everywhere, I feel them, I see them, I hear them,

And I answer, sparing neither strength nor years;

It exists because, for example, it breathes.

I exist only if I know the answer.

By looking and sighing, I can read the task.

By the rhythm of movement, I can easily understand the problem.

The nervous tic, the gait, the timbre of crying.

I know the answers, and I don't need questions.

And I say, to the bone, to the peep,

To chest pain, to frenzy, to wear.

They understand, accept, and say “thank you.”

And at least one person would ask a question.

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