WHAT CAN I DO?
Mr. 401 has come home once more.
A heavy day's work, and he's down
on the floor, a long face drooping
and tired. Life gets like that. We
get caught up and mired in all
that we do. Running the chambers
of chance, in a lost age of doing,
and wanting, and heave.
This pressure subsides, only much
later : as if in a dream, some old
guy dawdlling over a long-lost
supper, and looking like nothing
you'd have ever expected. You
don't want to stay, but you
don't want to leave.