Sell our soles

Selling souls and gathering cheap bread
to feed the hungry mortals
lying at the bottom of a disturbed sea
and tossing wheat into a garden of tranquillity.
Fire consumes my loins
and the lion demands a toll
of three score and forty-seven;
will he ever get paid?
The challenge of finding a good job
holding down premises of my own
and sharing six square feet
with a less than total stranger
not feeling the danger
of sinking into the quicksand
of mundane experience
seeking out new and interesting ways
to waste the same time
to sing and dance
and fart in public.