sinecure

i build myself utopia
the world revolves
for me
all worries resolve
for me
a sinecure provides
but not demands
and so my art thrives
with time and plenty
on my hands
beloved by all
commended,
celebrated and adored
and as the cheering throngs
reverberate in my ears...
the phone rings
back to my
day job doldrums drawn
and with a fake and facile
"hello, how may I help you"
this life goes on