The Businessman He was a brief-case Propped up against the Main Street Sign Tilting towards an abandoned corporate time clock While thin...white...papery linen Poured from his leather seams
Stopping After Midnight The lamps are stationary By stopping obediant wheels Turning and turning Days fly off the handle Screaming softly To dogs prancing through wilted gardens The nights ar
To drive A bike, a car A big brown truck Someday I shall be filled with luck I'll drive one down the busy street And wave to everyone I meet And shout "no time for me to stay!" And up and dri