One day
I went walking
Whistling mildly
For the somnolence of the moment
Indicated a certain merriment,
Indicated a reason to live.

I worked my knuckles to the wooden bone
Like you, like all of us
Trying to find an answer beyond the fog of love.

There is no other way. If you don’t know this
By now, you might as well be dead, a Mexican Sherpa
Living in a box-car and singing railway tunes
Is more soulful than the corpses of the idiot middle class.