The straw that broke the camel’s back
is the same one I drew that one time
no one wanted to do the difficult thing.
Now it’s in a museum at a mid-major
university, next to an unflattering picture
of me. One of these things (the straw,
the picture of me, me) is omnipresent:
some serious philosophical territory.
Someone “into analytics” is certainly
a type of person who exists, but never
flexes their interest for humankind.
Our tour guide tries to hide this secret
love from us. He avoids the direct light.
It's like people only do these things because
they can get paid. And that's just really sad.