Caustic Soda Like A Day
Forgte all your scribblings. Just take each word like a
day. One at a time. Take a single minute - alone like
solitaire. There's never enough of those minutes . . .
and games can have no end. Since I took that job, time
has fought and flown away from me. The weeks are short
but the days are long. You puzzle over it while you are
there and you continue on while you're at home. Thousands
of little jigsaws. Games can have no end. Careering down
the cables and smashing itself into pebbles - the ocean,
it's electrons. It means nothing really, it's just a
relative thing. So why do these days take so long to end?
Passed by those silhoutted power lines again. they just
stand in one spot year after year after year. They don't
seem to mind. They don't seem to care. They were born
with help and now they are instantly boring adults. I
don't want to be like them. Even those power lines have
got to come down sometime. It's just a question of when .
. .