Proud Poet

"What do you want to be when you grow up, son?" "I think I want to be a poet." "Oh no," moans Mom. "Anything but that," groans Dad. "You'll never make a living," chimes in Uncle Phil. "Who'd ever marry a poet?" rasps Aunt Lil. "Maybe you can be a professor," urges sister. "But I've nothing to profess." "Or a prominent researcher," urges brother. "To conclude that my theory was just a guess?" "How about Law?" cousin Dave suggests. "Who me? --Defend scoundrels and societal pests? "Public Service," counsels best friend Harvey. "That's the ticket." "No way. Politics is not for me. I'm already sick of it." "Business, ha-ha," smiles 'Honest Sam.' "That's where the money's made." "Not if I have to lie, cheat, and steal to get paid." "Well then, medicine's an upright calling," asserts Dr. Surgeon. "Sure is--if you can handle student loan debt ever-burgeoning. "So son," probe Mom and Dad, "Why in Heaven do you want to be a poet?" "Because poets seek the Truth, and their poems show it."