You might watch him, right now!
At the office, when nobody's around.
You might possibly see a rosary of pearls.
Little tongues crossing his beard.
And it's strange but confirms that old theory about
time: Each day you exist you have more crowns to clean.
So there he is, in the ill empty hall.
Vainly trying to wipe his grieved soul.
Feeling like a midnight queen of the house but knowing
tomorrow it will be more than a crown.
And it's strange but, at least for a while,
I like that man, that fat boy that sweats and could be me.