Sunday Morning

he sat down

and bit a cracker

he let the crumbs

rain on his lap

in the darkness of the living room floor

he played a record

rye in his glass

and he drifted in to

the vinyl set mood

while the ceiling fan

dragged smoke from his face

he pulled a clump of loose sitting

hair from his scalp

and dropped it in

the loaded ashtray

he inhaled

blew out the candle

he let the wax

spill on his hands

in the darkness of the living room floor

he pictured life as a photograph

and he drifted out of the vinyl set mood

while the ceiling fan annoyed him again

and he turned to his

sleeping beauty

and to her this is what he said

"That scum-sucking sun will be here anytime.

Draining me of my life-giving night.

When I was a boy, everything was alright.

But now the morning, brings tears to my eyes."

(Saturday morning, Friday night blues.

I`m just a fool, watching cartoons).