Black days crawl
Sunshine is small
Weeks on end we make nothing good

Afford one more trip
I tried not to slip
But I can’t always do what I should

And I fly into a rotten
Warm piece of fruit
The other flies look angry at what I intend to loot

But I swallow what’s mine
For the time I will bide
And take a last look around for the ride

I pay my due
Weak smile from you
And I shuffle my feet out the door

Nothing but drained
Catch the midnight train
But you know I’ll be back for more

© 8/1/1997
William Grant Preston

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