On this most cherished morn you opened a can of corn and
twisted out the blinds, revealing a room adorned with
packages to wrap. There's room at the edges for a victory
lap when the working day is through. You'll obey your
pillow, though you won't volunteer. The way your eyelids
hang down now, the weight upon your eyebrow, you can feel
it. SE 45th's your favorite street, where daily you find
your seat in a place where the eaves protect the papers
from rain and sleet. You wad them up in a ball to line
the boxes in case they fall. Everyone I know is riding
around with no place to go and no money for the arcade.
Meanwhile you're contentedly running the show. You've
mastered it like a dance; you mark the package, 'Ship out
to Paris, France.' Now obey your pillow, miss business
pioneer. The way your eyelids hang down now, the weight
upon your eyebrow, you can't escape it. Say goodbye to
me, close the door and turn the key. We leave for
different poles though your watch reads but 9:03 PM. Your
yawning I've read as a cue for you to go home and go to
bed and obey your pillow, though you don't volunteer.
The way your eyelids hang down now, the weight upon your
eyebrow, you can feel it.