why can't i work?

i wish that rain
would wash away my work ethic;
because the one i have right now
is not helping me through college.

right now, work includes writing a poem,
reading poems, thinking about books asleep on their shelves,
and the horror of the pillowman.

i'd rather be writing a play.
i'd rather be reading a play.
i'd rather be watching, producing, casting, lighting, making
a play.

but i'm supposed writing about atlantis.

which, when you think about it,
isn't that bad.

but my work ethic ran away last night on
a dream of an amber horse,
with mosquitoes trapped inside,
and all i want to do is sift
through the sand on a baseball field
and find a new work ethic,
because anything is bound to be better
than the one i have right now.