words.

my clients give me presents, sometimes.
i mean,
yeah,
they give me their loot,
but i provide them with a service in exchange for that.
i spend that money fairly quickly, as i am wont to do-
but they keep the tattoo for as long as they're around.
that's a pretty decent trade neighbors.
i pay some bills that i will need to pay again next month, too,
and you get transformed, or at least changed a little, for your forever.
so no.
i don't mean those movie checks.
i don't even mean the gratuitous gratuities-
what i mean is,
in addition to stacks of dollars,
sometimes,
i get presents, too.
like this:

yeah.
poems.
i swear to god,
poets love taking naps.
i mean it.
in just so many ways,
they're like the cats of literature.
you can add any adjectives that apply to cats,
and they are all totally and completely appropriate.
mmhmm.
i'll let that one soak in there for a bit.
***********
anyway,
it's one of those days.
i tattooed all day yesterday,
with nearly no breaks at all.
i ran late despite the push for nonstop rockin' i activated,
left an hour and a half after we closed,
and have a whole other 'nother day of doo-doo buttery dealings
with the same sunovab!tch today,
uh huh.
back to back blastzaps,
just because some duders take choosing the wrench seriously.
i can respect that,
but it still costs the same amount both days.
a grand don't come for free;
never quiet, never soft.....