Another book on heroes,
stenches of vinegar to work,
screens, desks, tea mugs,
where bar dreams lurk
before weekend sketches,
seven pint glasses deep.
The Monday to Friday shuffle
begins atop a hill that’s steep.
Paper clips and croissants,
time sheets plotting the way.
A church choir’s faint murmers
coat streets of an hour’s play
before afternoon rituals
of acronym and jet ink.
Rock n roll babies
aged in a blink.