The Undercover Poet

Narrator: (laughs, nearly choking on a cookie crumb) Career? Oh, you’ve mistaken me for someone with a five-year plan pinned to a vision board. Let’s be real, it’s not a career. It’s not even a “job.” It’s a glorified piggy bank. A paycheck with health benefits. My actual career? That happens between 2 a.m. and existential dread…