My feet, at the ends of my legs, do their job.
My face competently presents itself to others.
My hands do their job of grasping fruit
from my neighbor’s grove while my eyes
do their job of glancing back and forth.
My legs coordinate with my hips and feet to run
while my heart does its job of beating faster.
My teeth and jaws do their job of masticating,
and my tongue and throat do their jobs, too.
Men and women in town do their jobs.
Children don’t do their jobs. They’re lazy.
Horrible children who never work!
A child flautist approaches me slowly.
She is trying to trick me into falling asleep!
