I'll take a year to see how it goes, bag lint at laundries, watch my toes,
try not knowing how my stuff is working or disarm anything lurking
in memory the elevator shakes, stopping with a jerk at fakes.
I won't be good-looking, and listen better to what people say;
I won't be fun, if that's what it takes, but don't think given this ploy
I'm trying to make earnestness coy, give self-effacing the thorny boot.
What I want for this respito is the chance to show some incognito,
so when I come out cool again, I'll be more than may have been.