Volumes on the bookshelves, books all on the chairs.
Stereo at volume, and I don’t even care.
I lost my inspiration when I lost my sense of fear.
So I’ve brewed a pot of coffee I’ll sit and wait right here
& that’s the problem with time
Like a temple to the east wind, where a thousand offerings died.
I speak a stormy invocation to the ailing kick inside.
In a search for vindication for the crazy thoughts I’ve had
I’ll offer up my latest and pray it’s not so bad.
& that’s the problem with time
Take a walk upon the lake. Take an hour take a day.
Take whatever time it takes to settle down, but
given all the things I want, and the things I think I need…
Pressed a shirt and waistcoat trousers and a tie.
I even shined my shoes up I’m not sure why I try.
It’s the hint of desperation that always spoils the plan.
So I’ll meet with consummation but I’ll never shake her hand.
