how day is done
habit struck my hand today
i felt its sting - i pulled away
it said: get up and grab your drawers
shower shave and close the doors
your daily task looms large ahead
(i left my other self in bed)
what is this way? how can it be?
a shape walks on - some form of me
i am the nineteenth fabricator
i build the fifteenth elevator
i sport the cables, cut the rod
the channel's ready - i give the nod
another workman pulls a lever
this metal box could rise forever
encasement taking one and all
the fat and slim the short and tall
to cubicles and conference rooms
these neatly girdired plate-glass tombs
they write and check and test and measure
all we call our worth and treasure
count and tag and tie and tote
til plan's complete - another mote
to water-in our magic castle
the way is rote, the manner facile
the day is done - i've done my time
king lear, macbeath have played their rhyme
the play's complete. the time is when
i'll sleep, get up and start again
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