wake up, shower quick breakfast of cold cereal kiss wife, drive to work meeting, then lunch-Chinese takeout finish up report and begin making presentation get in car, head home hot dinner cooked by wife, big game-go Sox bed, lights off, and repeat I walked up a hill and took a seat, Looking out at the lit up city. The stars visible were dim. When the moon was high, I stood and drifted Through the streets. Ah, the young night. Prostitutes looking for money, Drunkards in the assorted bars. Between buildings, a groggly man sat. "WAR VET. ANYTHING HELPS. GOD BLESS." on his sign. He held a cup with little change in it. How much was true? What would he do with it until the next moon? When he would undoubtedly be back again, Along with the wandering prostitutes, And the drunkards in assorted bars. Would the man with his decent job, And his wife that cooks, Go back there? The world is slaved. I asked these things, While walking through the littered streets, And to my home, Between my buildings, For my night. Would the free please stand up?
