Empty

When the shadow hits the floor
I’m blinking.
Thinking of what’s in store
On the television.
It seems easier over there
Receiving everyone’s stares.
The mailbag is empty
And the lock has gone and broke.
When my cheque comes rolling in
I’m drinking.
Linking up with old habits
With wicked eyes.
It looks prettier inside the box,
Bright colours to hide behind.
When the clouds decide to part
Their separate ways,
I’ll get up and see today
Instead of waiting for tomorrow.
It drives better going downhill
Rolling straight into a tree.
The petrol tank is empty.
The man behind the wheel still walks away.
The batteries are empty.
The back has fallen off and disappeared.

First published in Rabelais.