The Man Who Gets Things Done

No more procrastinating, ruminating, internalizing or wasting,
The knitted brow promise of broken plow dreams.
I'm coming back as the man who gets things done.
No more living the internal, time suck drivel, that
Takes me to the end of the day without a single, soft-shelled
Achievement, even the most generous of calibrated measurements
Could remotely qualify as a bulls-eye shot, a
Moon landing hot moment of....yes!
I'm coming back as the man who gets things done.
I'll be gift wrapped and hyphenated, back-slapped and punctuated,
Toe-tapped and triplicated and carrying the baked goods in a
Satellite dish of glory even the neighbour's blind dog can see.
Because the school of putting it off until tomorrow is officially
Shuttered and shut, its doors cat-gut wired and nailed and
Strategically impaled with skull and crossbones and a
Blood red sign saying, "Closed Until Further Notice".
From now on, my daily routine is about the possible, the do-able.
So when the 3-D printed, totally high spirited conga line forms,
It will be me at the front, with inhibitions shredded, I'll be
Cocktail waiter threaded and singing in, full shout, heaven heard,
No doubt, spoken word, devout, undeterred possibility, as if
I alone was the entire Bourbon Tabernacle Choir,
Singing at the christening of Christ. Because...
I'm coming back as the man who'll make those trains run.
I'm coming back as the man who gets things done.

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