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.