The world flakes off around

Outside your house

There are little celebrations

The world has its movements

Where-ever the clouds float

..

At quarter to five,

when the sun glows for its last

all the men come home on their buses and trucks

and marvel at their castles:

the lawns they didn’t mow,

the letters not for them.

..

At night,

you can smell the sex on the

young boarders

who’ve

snuck out from their movie:

"Sorry guys -“

..

We’re all on a road

Road road

To no-where,

and its very pretty.