For The Job Poem by Julia Luber

It's only a matter of arranging an attitude: like a painting,
a composition-only so much can occupy that space. And even
the chromatics are going to fall into place like numbers. An equation
will outline a good frame, and voila- the personality is done and
ready for presentation. And let the gurus gather round and sprinkle
enhancements and additives through sound advice, a dash of calm like
a sailboat on a summer's day, escaping everything about that solid earth
and all the people on that planet; there's so many people on that planet.
Some of them are pure A-holes. But we were talking attitude. It's so easy;
it so falls in line. Even with a little shove it will snap back into line. A
commandment here, a commandment there: at ease. So be. Through
the gentle rolling of the sun around your sightline. And it can even be
easier than that: solely an airwave frequency that does not alter, does not
budge. Copywritten by its origins' singularity. Sing song the day long. An
easy going luck of the draw drawl. It's so confined and in place-a personality.
It does only what it can do. And nothing more. If the weather gets too rough,
and the ocean turns into more of a sea-saw, go in. Go back to land. Metaphysical
dominance will knock you off your feet and wait till you wake up to be yourself
again. There's nothing easier than having a personality that is simply cut out for the job.